CHEWY
I wrote this diary entry for my dearest dog, Chewy. I used to call myself an “accidental mom” because of how God brought us together—but let me tell you her story.
Chewy was just a month old when she was placed in a little cage on the sidewalk near SM Dasmariñas in Cavite. Simon, her original owner, was riding in a car with his family when he spotted her from the street. He begged his mom to let him bring her home. At that time, he hated living in the Philippines and wanted to go back to Bangkok where he grew up, but he told his mom he could handle staying here if they could take the puppy with them. She agreed, and he named her “Chewie.”
He later returned to get her brother as a companion, but he was already sold. So it was just Chewy in the end. That was back in December 2012.
By September 2013, when Simon and I got together, I met Chewy too. She already had three puppies—Hershey, Sparky, and Mucho. Their dad was a Labrador and she was a Japanese Spitz, so her boys were chunky but short. Chewy was incredibly smart and would even scold her kids when they misbehaved. The moment I met her, I fell in love with her cute face and clever personality.
In 2015, Simon’s family had to return to their home country. They planned to bring all their dogs, but when the paperwork was being processed, Chewy’s didn’t go through because she seemed pregnant. Airlines don’t allow unvaccinated, possibly pregnant dogs to fly, and the vet said vaccines could harm the babies. But after waiting, we found out she wasn’t pregnant—just a little too chubby.
So she stayed with me and my family for the meantime, and she was nothing but adorable. She never needed a leash, never bit anyone, and loved every animal we brought home. She loved chicken, understood everything, and was the sweetest soul.
She also had a funny talent—she could sing on cue. Sometimes she would sneeze or pretend to scratch when she’s shy. She knew how to sit, never got impatient, and never showed aggression even if you took food from her mouth. She loved belly rubs. She was a natural sweetheart.
When I became a streamer, I changed her name from Chewie to Chewy to match “Kweezy.” Simon agreed immediately.
When Simon passed away in 2020, I fell into a deep depression. I asked my mom if I could move out and live alone because staying in the same room and same house we shared was too painful. It was during the pandemic, so finding a place was hard, but I had to leave. That’s when I brought Chewy to live with me—just the two of us for the first time.
She became my companion. She saw me cry every day. Sometimes I couldn’t leave my bed from the grief, but Chewy would tap my feet or the edge of the bed with her snout, reminding me she needed to pee outside. I didn’t realize it then, but she was the reason I still got up at all. Some days I only ordered takeout to make sure she ate. And in her own funny way, she wouldn’t touch her food unless I pretended to eat it first.
As she aged, she got hospitalized for peeing blood. It turned out to be UTI. I blamed myself because I wasn’t getting up normally, and maybe she held her pee too long. After that, I forced myself to change. I cooked and ate with her again. She became happy again.
She even became my “streamer dog.” When I had to go pee, she had her own camera. She waited for me after streams and slept at the foot of my bed. She saw me fall in love again and get married. I prayed for so many things—and she stayed with me through all of them for 13 beautiful years. Until we found out she had cancer.
Three days ago, my mom called. Chewy was scheduled to travel to my new house because I just moved, and we needed to check if she was still strong enough to travel. At the vet, she suddenly collapsed and the doctor had to revive her. My mom called me immediately. I traveled for two hours the next day, and when I arrived, I saw her on the table with an IV, so weak. I broke down the moment I saw her. All I felt was guilt and sadness.
But even then, she lifted her head and wagged her tail a little—using what little strength she had left. She was happy to see me. The vet advised putting her down, but I wanted to hear from Chewy herself. I knew she would tell me. And she did. She looked at me like she wanted to go home. She even tried to get off the table, but she was too weak.
So I decided to bring her home. And the moment she arrived, she seemed at peace. She peed, ate the dog sausage I gave her, drank water, and finally slept. I knew she wasn’t going to last long, but I prayed. This time, I prayed for God to listen to what Chewy wanted. I think He did.
Tonight, around 6pm, my sweet Chewy finally rested.
I just wanted to write this because she deserves every good thing—every kind word and every memory. It’s true: a dog really is a man’s best friend. I will never forget you, Chewy. I hope in heaven you finally get to be with Simon. Tell him I said hi, and that I miss him every day.
Every time I see a chicken leg, I’ll think of you.
im so sorry for your loss. i cried when i read how chewy was happy to see you at the vet’s :((
may her soul run free in the skies. <333 hugs from a stranger
Thank you Anna. She was really an angel.