Cilley is founder and president of Film Consortium San Diego and adjunct professor at San Diego City College. lives in Tijuana.
At this point in my life, I can’t imagine owning a dog. Not because I don’t love dogs, but because I’m not ready to move on from my one true love: Tiqui.
At the time Tiqui came into my life, I had been looking for a teacup Yorkie. I was living in a small San Diego apartment and thought a tiny dog would be discreet in a no-pets-allowed complex.
I would quickly find out that a teacup Yorkie is a laboratory-created designer dog that costs a lot of money, money I neither had nor would possibly be able to justify spending on a pup. So instead of purchasing one, I wistfully searched internet listings and occasionally posted stock photos of tiny Yorkies on social media under headlines like “if you know where I can get one of these … hook me up!”
About eight months after my first dreams of teacup Yorkie, I got a phone call from my best friend Martin. “You’re not going to believe what wandered into my parents’ backyard,” he said, himself in disbelief.
My phone dinged and a photo came through. A photo of the tiniest, cutest, most perfect teacup Yorkie in the entire world.
Love at first sight!
“My dog!” I exclaimed.
“Well, we have to look for the owner first,” he quickly retorted.
“Of course!” I responded.
The Yorkie remained unclaimed. I’m not one to tout divine intervention, but it sure felt like the stars aligned in my favor because before I knew it I was headed to east San Diego to pick her up. When I got there she immediately accepted me, her tiny tail wagging excitedly when I walked through the door. From that day forward, she was my constant companion.
Tiqui was clearly not accustomed to the outside world. Cars, walks and meeting people were all new and exciting experiences for her. Once she got a taste of the outside world, she was hooked. The smells, the sounds, the action — she loved being out in the streets or on the beach. She fit snugly in my purse and that was her favorite mode of transportation. If she sensed I was leaving the house, she would jump in my purse and sit there looking up at me, eyes clearly communicating that she was too cute to be left home.
A 4-pound Yorkie is a celebrity wherever she goes. People stop in awe, shocked that such an animal exists. In Mexico, entire families would crowd around her in amazement, each waiting excitedly for their chance to pet this miracle of science. At first, she loved this attention, but after about six months of being a show-stopper, she got bored of all the attention and started completely ignoring anyone who tried to ogle her. Oh, the life of a celebrity.
Tiqui may have loved me more than anything in the world, but the list of things she hated was long and impressive. She hated flags, trash bags, cats and any human that was acting erratically. She loathed other dogs and she especially hated horses. She ruled the household with an iron fist, keeping all other pets in check and constantly reminding them that she was the queen of the castle.
This is a love story, and, like most love stories, it was not without its tragedy. In 2019, she survived a dog attack and her recovery was in my hands. From that moment forward, there were successes and many setbacks. Although Tiqui never fully physically recovered from the injuries sustained that day, she remained the tough-as-nails, heart-melting companion who wanted nothing more than to be next to me through it all. This experience deepened our bond, creating an emotional connection I hadn’t known was possible.
When she suddenly ed away in an accident in the summer of 2023, I was devastated. What I wouldn’t give to have her back, head sticking out of my purse, ears perked up and nose twitching in the wind. The number of joyful moments she brought into my life are immeasurable. She taught me so much about love and companionship, lessons that I’ll not soon forget.
I won’t get another dog for a while. The heartbreak is deep. Knowing what I know now, I’d still do it all over again with Tiqui, even through the tragedy and devastation. Above all, I’m a better person and my life was richer because of that experience. For now, I’ll just go back to nursing the huge hole in my heart where a tiny dog named Tiqui once lived.
