An Update on the Death of Rosie the Inbred Chihuahua
There have been a lot of questions since the recent passing of Rosie, the little inbred Chihuahua who became a poster pup for the dangers of irresponsible breeding -- it only makes sense that the community who loved and supported her would like to know the details.
Understandably, for Rosie's owner, Cinnamon Muhlbauer, it has been difficult to find the words and the energy to answer those questions. However, she has finally posted to the Everything Rosie Facebook page with an update that should clear the air and put inquiries to rest.
Here it is in her own words:
I’ve been trying to write this for days. Aside from the fact that I am unable to deal with Rosie’s passing there is also the issue that the posts on this page - the stories of Rosie’s life - were written with her in my lap or snuggled next to me. Sometimes I would re-read the posts, look at her and ask “…did I write that?” and she would affix her serene blue-eyed gaze on me as if to say “…WE wrote that…” Now she’s gone. My words are not inspired by her tiny little toes, or her huge paper thin ears, or the little satisfied noises she makes as she snuggles on my shoulder.
However, her FB family deserves to know what happened and to know at least as much as I know about why it happened. Finding the words without her to guide me is hard and I apologize if I ramble.
October 3 or 4, Rosie developed a bit of a cough and even though she was eating soft-boiled eggs and goats milk for breakfast along with her other favorite foods, she was not regaining the weight she’d lost before her salivary gland was removed. Up until Wednesday, October 9, I wasn’t worried, her recovery was great, not even a scar and she was active. Still, I made an appointment for her with Dr. Lupo for the following day. By the time we awoke on Thursday morning, her coughing was more frequent, she had no appetite, she looked dehydrated, and she was chilly.
When Dr. Lupo examined her, he thought pneumonia was a possibility but the bigger concern was how rapidly she was deteriorating. He gave me sub q fluids and antibiotics to take home and I left with the sick feeling this could be it for her. I put a heating pad in her stroller under one of her blankets, wrapped two more blankets around her, zipped it up, and then draped more blankets over the stroller to keep her warm and draft free. I gave her fluids and her medications. Rosie was tiny but she was stubborn and she made it very clear, weak as she was, she wanted to be on my lap and not in a stroller next to me. I could not deny her and put the heating pad on my lap to keep her warm.
Around 9:20 p.m. Thursday October 10, Rosie pushed herself up on those bent little legs to reach my shoulder. She pushed her face to mine, I held her close for a few minutes, and then she was gone. I managed to reach Eddie in India, and then reached out to her extended family. I never let go of her. At dawn, I dressed her in the little frog pajamas with her name on the back because she looked like she was sleeping. I wrapped her in her pink blanket with the kitten embroidery and then in her purple blanket that had the words “Loved and Cherished” on the hem.
Anna organized folks to meet us at Los Angeles Pet Cemetery when they opened at 8:30. I think some of you have seen the video Michelle took (I still haven’t been able to watch it) so you know Rosie and I were surrounded by love. I didn’t want to leave her with strangers – we stayed until she was ready to come home.
I spoke with Dr. Lupo on Friday evening and asked him if I had missed something or could have done something differently. He said no. In a nutshell, no amount of love, medical skill, or money could stop the ticking time bomb of her genetics. Rosie had gone as far as her little body could go and she switched off. Her xrays showed that her bones were becoming porous and it would have been impossible to reverse that. In a very short while, they would have been breaking and causing her pain. My Grandmother had osteoporosis and her little body had collapsed in on itself by the time she passed. I am haunted by those images of her and the idea that my Rosie was heading there was a knife in my already shredded heart. I suppose one could say her passing was well timed…
For the rest of her post, click here.
We hope this gives closure to Rosie's death and stands as a reminder that our work as dog lovers is far from over.
Read the rest of Rosie's saga on Dogster: