Her name didn't appear in the obituary section and she wasn't well known. But she was just as loved as any name appearing in the death notices.
The burial service was small -- only two people attended.
Alexis was just 15 years old. But what a wonderful 15 years it was.
The tiny five-pound, furry, brown-eyed bundle of love died suddenly and unexpectedly on Jan. 15. She passed away where she wanted to be with the people she wanted around her.
That Sunday, she simply looked for that favorite patch of sunshine as a place to leave this world.
She liked to rest her old weary bones in the warm winter sun that filtered through the back door glass. As the sun moved across the horizon, Alexis would inch across the carpet following the warming light until is disappeared for the day.
This day, like so many others, she sniffed the floor, wandering nose down to the bright sunbeam spotlight illuminating and warming the carpet. She started to lie down to bask in the warm glow.
But something appeared different. She didn't seem comfortable. Instead of lying on her side, as she always did, she extended her front paws straight out and thrust her right rear leg to the side. The leg began to twitch. She stared blankly into the distance as if she wasn't there.
Within minutes, she toppled onto her side, stopped breathing and died.
"Oh my God," I cried. "She just died."
I cradled her tiny lifeless body in my arms, holding it tightly against my chest. Efforts to resuscitate her failed. Tears streamed down my cheeks in disbelief. My best friend had suddenly departed this life, gone forever.
I remember picking up Alexis in Moyock, N.C. in January 1991. The 7-week-old fuzzy-faced ball of fluff just barely filled my open hand. She was a cute baby. But then again, all puppies are cute. She was the cutest.
As she grew, the feisty Yorkshire terrier temperament shone through. Sometimes she seemed a bit yappy. But oh, how she loved people. She never met a stranger. Alexis believed that anyone who came to the house must have come to see her. She craved the attention visitors showered upon her.
Alexis had a tongue that seemed endless. Hold her inches away from your face and somehow she managed to make that tongue snake from her mouth -- like a frog snaring a passing bug -- until it made contact with flesh.
She even loved other dogs, but not all. Strange dogs beware of the terrier attitude.
But at home, she befriended the Whippet, Bette. As a tiny puppy, she could be found curled up, sleeping on Bette's hip.
Just weeks old, she rolled herself into a tiny ball and crawled next the belly of the sleeping 95-pound Doberman that also lived in the house. Imagine a one-pound dog resting next to the "killer" beast. They were best buddies.
Alexis made beautiful babies. She proved to be the consummate mother, raising her pups. She nursed and nurtured three litters.
On hot summer days, she and her first puppy meandered in the yard - looking for a patch of shade or a way to cool off.
The Doberman's huge water dish proved inviting. It served as a mini swimming pool. She would sniff around the dish and then climb in, immersing herself into the cool water until just her face and head stood above the surface. It was laughable but incredibly smart. She taught her puppy the same trick. Who said dogs weren't smart?
Alexis enjoyed traveling. She rode from Cape Cod, Mass. to Palm Beach, Fla., sleeping on my lap as I drove. She was the best traveling companion.
During the day while I worked, she slept on the small pillow beside the apartment door. When it was cold, a heating pad set on low temperature sat atop the pillow -- her Princess Pad -- to warm her, much as the sun used to do at the house.
When I came home, she lazily raised her head to look at me with those brown eyes. In her later years, she wasn't real active -- no running to the door or wagging tail. But the look -- that "I love you" look -- said it all.
The long coat made her seem regal. But she hated that image. She wanted to be a blue collar Yorkie. Put a bow in her hair, as topknot and she would scoot her head on the carpet or against a piece of furniture to remove it. She worked very hard at that. When she finished her hair was askew. Alexis almost seemed to smile that she had foiled a plan to make her more beautiful.
While watching television, she lolled and slept on the sofa at my feet or by my side.
At night, she slept beside me in the king-sized bed. She always found a way to touch me, letting me know she was there for me. Either her tiny feet or back pressed against me.
At times, I would wake up at night and stroke her long soft coat, give her a kiss and tell her how much I loved her. She would sleepily twist around and plant a tiny wet lick on my nose, acknowledging my caress.
All that is gone.
I think she planned when to die. She didn't appear to suffer.
She never did anything wrong in her life, even in death.
Some may say she was only a dog. But any animal lover will tell you that isn't true. She was a member of the family -- a valued member.
She knew how much she was loved, how much she meant to me. She brought immeasurable joy to my life.
The tiny loyal companion, who will forever have a large place in my heart, was laid to rest next to a fence post. A note in magic marker marks her grave.
She gave only love and asked nothing in return.
There is no replacing her. I wouldn't want to. She was one of a kind.
She was a major love in my life.
Rest in peace, Alexis. Rest in Peace.