Maya

Today, we are saying goodbye to our 15 1/2 year old Yorkie, Maya.

I’ve always considered this sweet girl a kindred; she’s shy, with a need for quiet and solitude. When she was younger, if the house was noisy, she’d head upstairs or into another room to be alone. I wonder if the measure of hearing loss she has experienced in her advanced years was welcome respite to her.

That’s not to say she wasn’t feisty when she wanted to be. She’d shake the stuffing—literally, sometimes—from toys during a rousing game of “fetch”. I can still she her shaking a favourite stuffed rabbit before dropping it in front of us, one paw on top of it, daring us to throw it again. She played tug-of-war with both Chelsea and Murphy, usually deferring to them, then barking loudly to protest the injustice.

In these latter years, she has leaned into her introversion preferring to be indoors most of the time, suddenly standing in the middle of the room and barking if she doesn’t know where either of us are at the moment.

She spends a good chunk of the day sleeping in her bed next to the fireplace in the living room.

She enjoys sharing a morning banana and evening apple with Gerry every day.

She has an obsession with dehydrated banana.

It’s been a joy and honour to share our lives with her from when she was a black ball of Yorkie puppy to now.

Her (relatively) big, beautiful eyes melt my heart.

We will miss her deeply.