Shortly after Bobby died, I was constantly going to animal shelters looking for another exact "copy" of Bobby. I was hell bent on finding the exact same dog. I was looking not just for dogs, but poodles mixes, that are black, male, and with short ears and handsome faces. There was this beautiful pit bull puppy with amazing eyes and a colorful stripy sweater on that reached out to me crying desperately, and a chihuahua that reached its paws trying to call me and grab my attention. I  refused to look at them. When I came back around later, the pit bull puppy was heart broken and sunk to way back of the cell and looked sick. I never saw the chihuahua again. Of course I never found another dog like Bobby, I was heart broken too, and with time I just accepted that he was gone for good. Life moves on you know? If you tell people that you were hopelessly in love with your dog like your own kid, they look at you mad like some degenerate that have nothing better to offer the world but to rot away like a pedophile.

I wonder if those puppies found families or was euthanized. From times to times I think about them and it was very hard to forget those images.

Right before this animal rescue fiasco happened, I would think to myself about volunteer to animal shelters or rescue groups, and how emotionally draining that would be. I was reluctant to take the first step, but it turned out, life gave me a push.

While it was easy to put off volunteering at animal shelters, you can't turn away from animals dying in front of your eyes.

I never thought I would like chihuahuas, but after one week living with them and having them turning my life into a living hell, I'm totally for chihuahuas. They are like the rock star of dogs, small like a mice, but big, I mean super big on personalities.

Call me crazy, but all the regrets that troubled me in the last year or two, rescuing these two chihuahuas was a second chance for me... to do my part. Everyone deserves a second chance right?