Chico bid his forever goodbyes this week. At 17, he’d had a great run. Chihuahuas can go 20 in a vacuum, but Chico was no bubble boy. Gutter pizza (any toppings), table scraps (any meal), festering roadkill (any species), and the occasional spilled beer. Anything on the ground was fair game. He had one impressively indomitable constitution.
Chico’s immunity to alimental peril likely stemmed from his destitute origins: an orphaned pup from the Dominican Republic hill country. The Sottak family had lost their much-loved black lab, leaving a hole in the family heart. A scruffy white street rat didn’t seem the obvious cure, but when offered, the parents (Mike and Toni) were outvoted by the daughters (Savannah and Lindsey), and Chico joined the clan.
The Sottaks live a charmed life, at least through a charmed geography. San Francisco, Turks & Caicos Islands (where they adopted Chico), Aix-en-Provence (where they met your writer), and now Charleston. They are a social family with a lot of good friends weaving in and out of their lives. Chico was the through line that connected everyone through everywhere. Hey, how is Chico? That question started most greetings if months or years had passed.
In Aix, where we became good friends, it was bestowed upon me from time to time to dog sit. My feral cat Chloe loathed sharing her flat with this fur-ball Chihuahua. Chico hated the relentless stalking and menacing glares that made napping impossible. But despite the occasional flare-ups they mostly kept to their designated corners.
There was no better pet to carouse with for a single man in Provence. Never on leash, Chico was a tireless terrasse flâner and shameless seducer. The bartenders and restaurateurs knew him, chefs and bouchers gifting him prized nibbles and bones. He wasn’t averse to the soft lap of an attractive woman, straw sipping her Aperol Spritz on a summer evening and stroking his soft fur. Oh si mignon, le petit chien !
You can tell a lot about people by how they treat their pets. Some dote, some abuse, and some provide just the perfect balance of love, support, and independence. I grew up on a farm and our dogs and cats came and went as they pleased. Sometimes they’d sleep in the cardboard box in laundry room, sometimes they’d disappear for a few days. In the freeze of the Pennsylvania winter, the dog and cat would grudgingly climb into that box together. Damn it’s cold, slide over.
The Sottaks are my kind of pet people. There was a lot of love in the Chico home, from all 4 of them. Their gentleness with and loyalty to the dog reflected the same manner they treat everyone in their orbit. Perhaps it’s why I feel blessed to remain in it. And also blessed to have been with them during this difficult week. Mike and Toni have been staying in Aix for the past month, and Chico picked this period start the hard slide. There are worse places to expire than Provence, eating well, drinking well, sitting poolside or on some attractive woman’s lap. Another Apero Spritz monsieur. Just going to relax here for the moment.
Chico wherever you are I hope you have found Bishy and that you’re keeping each other company~ RIP ❤️❤️🙏
Oh NO!!!!! Chico was my buddy here in Charleston and he will be missed. Mike and Toni, Savannah and Lindsey, I am so sorry for your loss. Just remember: all dogs go to heaven. He was a good, good pup.