Tequila’s Perspective

january 24, 2025

I woke up this morning, shivering like a leaf in a bad thunderstorm. The air conditioning was turned up way too high for my tiny, 7-pound body. My ancestors are from sunny Mexico, after all, and my short hair does nothing against the chill. But, as expected, Momma came downstairs in her pajama-clad, messy-haired glory and rummaged through my Tupperware container of clothes. She found my favorite hoodie, and oh, sweet relief! Hey, don’t judge me till you walk a mile in my chanclas! 

“Good morning Tequila! Who’s my pretty baby? Who’s my pretty girl?” Momma said to me, scooping me up and squeezing me into a hug before setting me back down on the cold ceramic tile. She puts my pink hoodie on over my collar.

Momma grabbed my retractable leash and put on her shoes — my cue that we are going for a walk. Excitement bubbles in my chest as we head down the driveway, my paws tapping eagerly against the pavement.

As we head down the driveway my mind starts to wander to memories from my younger days. 

My earliest memory is a bit traumatic. I remember missing my brothers and sisters after being put in a cold, slippery plastic crate with a metal grate. I was terrified and clueless about what was happening. Then, the crate was moved onto a very noisy contraption called an airplane. It was horrifying! I was in shock when my new family finally picked me up.

I walk with springy, energetic steps with my head held high. We walk up the block toward the stop sign. Momma says I’m “prancing” again and she reminds me she can carry me when I get tired. Oh boy! The neighbors have stinky things in large plastic cans near the road, but they smell so good to me. 

As we pass the houses, I think of all the times Momma showered me with kisses. When I was younger, I tolerated it because it made her happy. She’d smother my face with kisses just below my ear, and tell me that she loved me. Now that I'm older, I've come to love her kisses. Her face is warm and comforting, and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, to soak it all in.
When momma is sad or stressed she buries her face in my neck and breathes deeply. It seems to calm her. I guess I’m not a stinka butt like my human sister says.
Sometimes, while I’m busy looking around Momma kisses me, and I turn my head unexpectedly giving her a wet eyeball. She laughs and says, “Bleck! Salty eyeball.”
At the stop sign we turn left. Momma picks me up so I don’t have to cross the street. Safety first, she says. I sniff at the base of an oak tree as we walk down another block. The tree tells me a lot of information, it was marked by a few other dogs that live in our neighborhood. I have a few more trees to sniff before we get to the school.
Suddenly, someone drops something heavy at the end of their driveway near their tree. The loud noise startles me! Triggering another memory. (Still upset I didn’t get to sniff that tree!)
Ah, the Fourth of July — the day of never-ending booms and bangs. It didn't scare me when I was a pup, but now it's utterly terrifying. Momma always tries to reassure me, saying they're just fireworks, but it sounds like a war zone out there. When the booms come faster, I run to Momma and jump at her calves, begging her frantically to pick me up. She always does, and I feel instantly safe in her arms.

Thankfully, today’s noise was just a one-time bang, not fireworks. We continue walking down the alleyway toward the old school.

Momma picks me up again to spare my paws from the gravel. I am so relieved, because the tiny gravel pieces stick between my toe beans and it hurts! Being back in her arms reminds me of all of the places she’s taken me. I notice that Momma has her usual soft, lavender smell and yum! I can also smell the eggs she had for breakfast.

We’ve been on so many adventures! Momma has brought me to stores where people notice and pet me. She even took me kayaking! Floating on the water is soothing, but sometimes I get impatient and stand on my back legs, peeking over the edge ready to leave. It frustrates Momma, but I worry I am missing treats or fun at home.

As we approach the grassy area near the school, I catch the scents of other dogs. It reminds me of my old companion, Lily.

When I first arrived in my new home, there was another dog — a bigger fluffier one. Lily and I became fast friends, and for years we played together. I’d sit on her back to stay warm nestled in her fur, and even dragged a blanket over her once. After a few years, she grew tired. Cancer, they said. I don't know what that is, but I know it made her hurt. Losing her was hard. I didn’t want to be around other dogs after that. I was just too sad.

Momma sets me down gently on the sidewalk. The delicious aroma of chicken from Pizza Bistro wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. It reminds me of the things I love the most. Momma gives me tomatoes and lettuce from her buffalo chicken salad from there.

Momma always gives me the best snacks — sardines, blueberries, strawberries and crunchy cabbage. I’ll eat almost anything, except cilantro and parsley. Once, my jaw locked around a juicy apple, and it took two people to pry it out. I didn't want to let go! 

When I’m sick, Momma takes extra good care of me with cuddles and special meals. Ground beef and rice, yum!

Curiosity runs through my veins. Momma holds everything up to my nose so I can investigate. She’s thoughtful like that. She suddenly bends down and picks a dandelion so I can smell it.

I’d say my life is pretty fantastic — except for baths and nail trims. Baths make me less itchy, and Momma says they get rid of my "Frito feet.” Nail trims though? No, thank you! Sometimes she sniffs my feet, and yells, “Pee-yew stinky!”

Despite my small size, I love big. I know I am getting older, and my vision isn’t as clear these days, but I still recognize Momma’s face. When we lock eyes her face lights up! Her laughter is the best sound, and I often climb on her chest when she’s laying down, and wiggle my butt just to make her laugh.

When I was younger, I had so much to learn. Momma used to hold my bones for me. One day, she left to go potty (not in the grass like I do), and I surprised her by holding my bone with my front legs. She was so proud! I eventually learned to use my mouth to move blankets and clothes to make cozy nests.

Momma suddenly asks me to stop, because there are other dogs around. I did instantly and looked up. She just wants to make sure I am safe and the bigger dogs don’t pounce on me.

I know all kinds of tricks: I can high five, sit, lay down, jump up and spin around. Momma tried giving me speech buttons, but they're too hard to push with my tiny paws. Instead, she makes puzzles for me to solve, keeping my brain sharp.

As we near home, cars pass by on the street below us. I think about all the trips we’ve taken, and how the air smells differently every few miles.

I feel a burst of energy and get the zoomies in the grass, running back and forth in zig-zag lines. Trips to hotels make me zoom around with excitement. I love running down the hallways, my feet making loud prancing sounds on the carpet. I love perching on furniture, feeling tall and in control. I’m so low to the ground; it’s hard to survey your territory from there.

We approach the steps and sit to watch the clouds go by. The warm sun feels nice on my body, and I’m getting tired.

Momma picks me up and carries me again, I can hear other dogs barking and communicating with each other.

I don’t bark, but I can howl and cry in the car. Momma holds me up to sniff the air on car rides to ease my anxiety. I think the anxiety is from my airplane ride.

As we approach home, Momma sets me down again, saying I’m getting heavy.

Despite my age, I know she’ll carry me anytime I need her. She’s like my personal elevator service—upstairs, downstairs and even onto the couch. My knees aren’t what they used to be, and jumping is a distant memory. But hey, why leap when you’ve got a chauffeur? I’m grateful for her help, and it’s kinda fun being spoiled!

Back at home, Momma kicks off her shoes, and removes the leash from my collar. I head straight to my water bowl for a drink. I yawn and stretch my whole body, butt up in the air. Momma used to do yoga, but I still do downward dog pose multiple times a day. 

Then it’s time to cuddle—after a walk like that, a nap is definitely in order! 

Momma loves me so much, and I feel it every day. Even when she leaves, she looks sad, and tells me to be a good girl. Sometimes she says, “Don’t throw any parties while I’m gone,” but I don’t know what that means, so I just wait for her patiently. She always comes back. Always.

Momma gently places me on the couch and sits down beside me, stroking my neck. My eyes grow heavy as I curl up in her lap, the hoodie still wrapped snugly around me. 

I think back to all the moments we’ve shared, the walks, the adventures, the quiet times. This walk was no different — just another chapter in the story of our life together. I know there will come a day when my legs can no longer carry me down the block, when our walks are memories instead of routines. 

Momma leans down and kisses me gently on my forehead. “I love you,” she whispers, the words sinking into my heart like my favorite fleece blanket. I look at her before settling back down with a contented sigh. 

This walk, this moment, is ours. It’s more than just a walk; it’s a memory—one of the many that fill our days with love. And I know, no matter how many more steps we take together, I’ll always remember the way the world feels when it’s just me and my Momma. 

The best adventures always lead you back home.

- Jennifer McCalla