The day I met you, I fell in love. I was bored at work, so I decided to run next door to the pet store and see if any new ferrets had come in. Your head was bigger than your body so you kind of looked like a baby piggy. I asked the lady if I could hold you and she let me take you into the backroom and play with you on the couch. You were so cute. I knew at that moment in time that you were mine. It was meant to be...I just had to convince your father. It was tough enough getting him to agree to your, then soon to be, big sister, but I had faith I could pull it off. So I started off with the "we are the only people in the world that could ever love her this much," and the "Little Girl really needs a buddy" pouting rant. He, of course, said no numerous times and all I could get was an agreement to at least see you before some else bought you. I guess he didn't remember that was exactly how your sister came to live with us!

So we drove up there that evening. He thought you were adorable, but booted out the Mrs. Piggy name I suggested immediately. He said we should bring your sister and see if she likes you. I told the store owner to consider you sold! The next day I visited you every chance I had. You seemed to wake up when you heard me. I believed you were just as in love as I was. We brought your sister later. To our surprise, she grabbed you by the scruff of your neck, dragged you to the corner of the cage, and proceeded to clean you. It was settled. Daddy gave the thumbs up, and you were mine! He wanted us to get ready for you, so we bought you, and planned to take you home in a week. December 30th, 2002.

We spent the whole next week trying to decide on a name for you. I accepted that Mrs. Piggy wouldn't work. You needed a cute name. Lila is what we decided on in the end. Lila Lee Wixsom. I visited you about every 5 minutes for the next week. We brought you home and you were such a nervous little thing. Your sisters' incessant scruffing, dragging, and cleaning made you shake. Whenever I tried to put you down you would cry. It was the most pitiful little whimper; I then decided that carrying you around at all times was my best option. You didn't mind at all. We had a party for New Years Eve. To me it was a show off my new baby party. Everyone thought you were the cutest little thing ever. You were so small; you fit in the palm of my hand. You spent the whole night sleeping in a ball on the back of my neck.

You are now referred to as Pooh Bear Wixsom after having never actually been called Lila to this day. Your tiny brown face has greeted me every morning since the day you came home to us. We have shared an apartment, a bedroom in your grand parents' house, and our last home together here. You get in the shower with me every morning, lay on my feet while I brush my teeth, and stand at the gate watching me leave for work. You are right back there, as if you never left, when I return. We share kisses and you and sissy get treats. I run the shower so you can lick the water like you love to do. Then it's play time. You love having the space at the base of your tail tickled, you go nutts! And that damn tube from Ikea that you lay in and try to dig to china. The noodle box and tent are your favorites. You loved having noodles dumped on you. It's like a kitten on catnip. The funniest times, were those shared between you and your sister. Daddy and I would watch in amusement, as the two of you would do these strange war dances and make the strangest noises. You'd tackle each other so much that we started naming your wrestling moves! The pile driver was my favorite! You two crazy things would fall off the bed, run backwards, and then slam into the wall, and somehow that would fuel your craziness! You'd dance around and squeak, and then bite my toe, the innocent bystander between two jumping balls of frenzy. We would roll on the floor laughing at you two. The bond you share is indescribable. She is your mini mom that just expects me to take care of the major stuff. She handles everything else. Then, the two of you curl up between me and daddy at night, and we all go to bed.

The day we got the bad news was a very rough day. It was your first visit to Dr. Gold. We thought you had a cold or something. You had been making strange noises, like coughing or something, and I drove daddy nutts enough to agree to a vet trip. I remember after blood work and x-rays, they took us to the very last room in the place. He put your x-rays up, turned the lights off, and started to explain about a white cloud on your lung. I then heard a lot of mumble, and some words like tumor, lymph nodes, not operable, and cancer. I know daddy cried and I asked questions like I was a news correspondent. "What does this mean", "What do we do", and "How long does she have"? I felt my heart drop when I heard survival rate was 6 months to a year. Lymphoma, that's the name of my new enemy that just jumped to the top of my hate list. We left, hearts broken, with a little bottle of pink medicine now well known as prednisone, we call it pred. 2 Times a day, everyday, indefinitely. At your first check up we were happy to hear that the pred was working, and that your tumors had shrunken 50% from what they were. We could now bring you in once every 3 months for blood work and x-rays, instead of once a month.

We made it through the 2 year mark on pred alone. No one expected it, and daddy and I felt blessed for all the time we never expected to have. Your sister had, at this point, been diagnosed with adrenal disease, another cancer, now tied with enemy number one. The two of you giving me and daddy two very emotional blows to the heart, and the bank account. We found a lump on your lower belly and took yet another visit to good old Dr. Gold. More lymphoma was the culprit, in a different spot, and a different type. Chemo was the answer. Tiny, little, birth control pill, sized medicine called Leukeran. We'd try it for a week, bring you back in, and then if it doesn't work, we'd discuss other options. Other options being "putting you down before things get messy", as the Dr.'s exact words were. A week later we learned that the chemo was working. You had snapped back to your old self, and things were good again.

Two and a half years and counting, you are my little survivor, my little blessing. We have been through so much together, always there for each other. You have always been there with kisses and love when I was down. We've learned to read each other, as much as an animal and human can. I know what you're feeling and what you want. Without a word ever spoken, we have built an unbreakable bond. Making the call to Dr. Gold was the worst thing I thought I'd ever had to do. I told the woman on the other end that we needed to make an appointment to have you "put down." Those words make me quiver. I couldn't help but think, can't the find a better name for it? It sounds so...heartbreaking. My little brown angel, so full of life, had decided she was tired. I knew it, and daddy knew it. We made the final decision with tears in our eyes, deciding that it was best for you, and that we needed to not be selfish. Our last days with you have been emotional. There is a part of me that feels that we have made this decision too late, and there's a part of me that feels we have made this decision too early. All I know is that I want you to be okay. I don't want you to hurt. I don't want you to keep fighting, for me, because I know you are. I see in your eyes that you are ready. I am trying to let you see in mine that I am okay. I will pull through in time, but you will take a large piece of my heart with you. I truly believe that you feel different types of love for all the people and things in your life. I have a love for you that I have not felt for anything else. We have a connection that will stay in my heart and memories forever. I held you in my arms while you went to sleep for the last time. I feel and empty space inside that you alone filled, a piece of my heart that you have taken with you. I miss you more than words can ever say. Daddy and I will do our best to make sure your sister is okay. We are all taking it one day at a time. All I can do is hope that you understand that I made this decision in your best interest. It gives me a sense of peace to know that you are no longer in pain, no longer fighting, and you are at the rainbow bridge now, playing and dancing. Until we meet again, my sweet girl, you will be in my heart forever. I love you so my pooh-pa lovins. You will be greatly and severely missed.