Our life with Ricky Martin
Ten years ago today Ricky Martin came to live with us. Jay’s brother Jack and his wife Cynthia found him wandering in the hills and tried to reunite him with his owner, but were unsuccessful. Most likely he had been abandoned. One night at a family gathering, Cynthia showed us a picture of him and told us he’d be an ideal pet for us. She was absolutely right.
These photos are from the day we met him. After running around in the bushes for what seemed like half an hour, he ran up and jumped in my lap and gave me the sweetest look. I was, of course, smitten.
Then he was off again. For the first year or so, he was a real handful, constantly barking and running around. Hearing a doorbell on the TV would send him into a frenzy. He would chew up anything he could get his mouth around, including Jay’s favorite shoes, his grandparent’s armchair, a couple of couches, and the Mont Blanc pen my mom gave me when I graduated from college. (I kept the pen, and it means even more to me now than it did before.) We wondered if he might be part Basenji. If he was not carrying on like a maniac, he was cuddled up with us, insisting that we scratch his belly. We were, of course, very indulgent parents, and in time he settled down--sort of.
Ricky was with us for over nine years, and brought us a ton of joy. Last year he started getting sick, and after many trips to the vet we found out he had cancer. We had him put to sleep on the day after Thanksgiving.
Last night I dreamed we were playing with him again. In my dream I knew he was gone, but it was so real, I still felt some of the joy he brought us when he was around.