I’m trying to keep my mind occupied today, and I’m failing miserably. I lost my precious four-legged mixed Chihuahua last night. After his dinner, I let him out to use the bathroom, and while he was out, he was attacked by two other dogs while he was in our own yard. I called for him, and when he didn’t show up, I got into my car to see if he’d gone to a neighbor’s house. I didn’t see him there, but as I turned into my driveway, I saw him laying on the left side of it. When I checked him, he was still alive, so I put him on the backseat and went in search of an emergency animal hospital. None were open. I lost my baby, and I am inconsolable. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I can do nothing except think of how he should be here with me. I buried him in the backyard behind my garage because I know he wouldn’t like being buried in a sunny spot. I also had to make the difficult call to tell my daughter that he’d died. I am having a very, very, very bad day. One thing I am going to do is advocate for an emergency animal hospital on my side of the city. No one should have to drive for miles and miles, calling vets whose websites say they provide emergency animal care and discover that they’re closed. I am so sad today. My baby Winston didn’t deserve to be attacked by a set of roaming dogs in his neighborhood, in his own yard and die because of it.