Higgins

Higgins AKA Mickey (2009).

It is with a heavy heart that we announce our beloved Higgins crossed the rainbow bridge on Friday, October 11th, 2024 after a brief battle with cancer. He had just turned 16. Like everyone else’s furry member of the family, Higgins was the best. Except he really was the best. A lovable, scruffy, hungry, cuddly, goofy, scrappy, handsome being (with an underbite) that brought nothing but years of joy to our lives.

In early 2009, Leeta searched Pet Finder for a puppy for us. She happened upon Mickey, a small black and white spotted bichon in Michigan. Leeta showed her coworker Amy the listing to get her thoughts. By extreme coincidence, Amy’s grandmother in Cleveland had just adopted him. Bringing Mickey into the family was just not meant to be. A few months later, Leeta came into work to find a photo of Mickey on her desk. Amy’s grandmother was no longer able to take care of him. And she wanted us to adopt him. We picked up Mickey, along with a tin of food, a pet carrier, and a note from Amy’s grandmother. The note stipulated that Mickey’s bedtime was 10PM with a cookie. We had already planned to travel to Pt. Pleasant, West Virginia for their annual Mothman Festival. Mickey came along. We christened that his first birthday.

By the time Mickey came to live with us his black spots were already turning gray. His given name of Mickey (his big black ears reminiscent of Mickey Mouse) no longer seemed to fit. We workshopped some possible replacement names with coworkers and settled upon my suggestion of Higgins, inspired by the regal English benefactor of Thomas Magnum in TV’s Magnum P.I. Higgins with his flop of curly hair didn’t exactly cry out austerity, but the juxtaposition was perfect. Higgins Hotdigby Hammond he was from here on out.

The odds were against Higs from the start; he was the runt of the litter, having to fight with many siblings for food. He was born with bad hips and blind in his left eye, partially blind in his other. Leeta and I had to scrap at times ourselves growing up. It seemed fitting to give a fellow scraper a home even though it admittedly took a few weeks for me to get what is now all these years later as clear as the nose is on my face. Higs was special. He fought to be here. And he belonged here with us. A year later we added Fiona to our brood; a very different personality than Higs, with her headstrong, no photos / no hugs mantra, but a perfect, loving contrast there could not be.

We grew older with Higs and without realizing, relied on him to be a constant presence through the ups and downs of life. As the energy of our 20s shifted into our 30s, then 40s, so too did Higgins’s  Energizer Bunny level of spins; (proudly) eating a hole in the couch; throwing himself at a slice of pizza somewhat in the vicinity of his face; unearthing a months (or years) old donut under Jeremy’s stairs; teething on the bedroom window sill at night; and stealing veggies from the garden (a lot of this is food related). He settled into a comfortable pattern of walks, camping, and sleeping in. Higs’s love of ice cream, rubs, and snuggles never waned. In recent years Higs grew a bad habit of launching himself off the back porch, bed, couch, and stairs. Somehow he never injured himself beyond the occasional limp. For the number of congenital issues Higs was born with, we has very sturdy.

Higs’s sturdiness helped through the occasional health scare: when we thought he was going blind; the large lipoma removed from his chest; years of kidney disease; and a sarcoma removed from his leg, which recurred this past summer. Around that time is when we noticed a sore on this mouth that appeared out of nowhere, which was unfortunately an aggressive form of melanoma. Doctors suggested surgery followed by radiation giving him about a year survival time, which was adjust to closer to six months post treatment. Leeta and I were stunned. The moment we’ve been actively dreading for many years was here. After years of “perfect” physicals and having blown past his average life span with ease, we had a to face the reality that in the near future Higs would not be with us. Just months ago Higs was (proudly) chasing deer out of Audra’s backyard.

The scheduled surgery date left us with a week to take an impromptu, “emergency” family vacation roadtrip to Mighigan, a place we’ve been with the pups many times, and of course, where Higs was born. Lots of ice cream, roadside attractions, and camping. Higs was so uncomfortable, but overall a trooper. The pinnacle of the trip was a visit to Horseshoe Bay Beach, the northern most tip of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. You have to drive off road, then hike to get there. It’s really beautiful. Fiona went off on her own back into the woods and was mistaken by some hikers as a tiny black bear. This is classic Fiona. I sat on the rocky beach with Higs in my lap and that’s when it really hit me that my buddy of 15 years would not be physically here with us. I wouldn’t always be able to hold him like I was right then. Leeta took some rocks from that spot home with us.

Two days after we got back Higs was in surgery to remove the spot on his mouth followed by a month of weekly radiation. The in and out of the hospital, constant anesthesia, and of course the radiation was hard on him, but each week Higs persevered just like we have come to expect from him. The doctors were please with his progress. In the interim we got a few campouts in and hangs on the porch. For his 16th birthday we travelled back to the Mothman Festival, almost 15 years to the day of our last visit (and Fiona’s first). It was emotional, but cathartic. Higs had a burger for lunch and ice cream for dinner.

Higs graduated from treatment last Tuesday. He came home wearing a bandana signed with encouraging messages like “Way to go!” by the oncology team that treated him. All looked good for several healthy months ahead. On Friday, the first night both Leeta and I were not with him, Higgins passed away. And here we are, devasted, writing this memorial months before we expected (hoped) to. A painful reminder that there is no good time to lose someone… that life is fickle and time is finite.

This could go on forever, but ultimately, what needs to be said is that Higgins; we love you. We miss you. Forever. Your Mom, Dad, and Sister are grief-stricken, but grateful. We are so thankful that you spent your life with us. You have brought endless amounts of joy and love into our world. And not just ours. So many people in our orbit recognize that Higs was extraordinary.

Thank you to all our people who spent time with Higgins: pupsat; walked; fed; partied with; gushed over…

Thank you to “Grandma” Betty, Amy’s grandmother, that trusted us with the care of your Mickey all those years ago.

Thank you to Emily and Audra who treated Higgins like one of your own. Emily, Higs enjoyed all the couch and back porch cuddles. Audra, even though you feel the beds you bought the pups were too small I know that Higs thought they were perfect.

Thank you to everyone who reached out with messages of condolence and support; the flowers; and the remembrance candles that helped guide Higgins along his way.

Thank you to Dr. Horne, Drs. Monfort before her, and the staff at Clintonville Animal Hospital for years of excellent veterinary care. You are one of the reasons we were fortunate to have Higgins with us for as long as we did.

Thank you to Dr. Henrickson and the Oncology staff at The Ohio State University Veterinary Medical center for your care of Higgins during his final weeks. You are heroes.

Thank you to Nancy and Krista, lifelong friends of Higgins, who recognized what was happening in his final moments when we couldn’t. It gives Leeta and I solace that Higgins was surrounded by loved ones, and the valiant effort you both made to get him to the hospital in time to save him we could never ever forget.

Higgins spent his last full evening with his family, watching TV like countless other nights, sleeping in his chair, on his sleepy nite nite sack blanket, and under his star shower. Over time that will become a very peaceful thought.

Our thoughts are with all of our people who have had loved ones cross the rainbow bridge, too many to name here.

Love to all.

Memorial for Higgins on a secluded beach in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula (November 2024).