For Dog's Sake!: The Story of Killer

Jaz Rogers
Jul 21, 2017
3 min read

When asked if I'm a cat person or a dog person, I always say dog. I used to publish my alliance with felines, but that was before a certain teacup chihuahua and I became inseparable.

Killer was born in early 2001 in Tracy, California. I was five years old and absolutely over the moon that Mommy and Daddy were adopting a new puppy. When we arrived at the breeders' house, there was a large brown chihuahua barking ferociously inside a silver car parked in the driveway. That dog, they told me, was the puppies' mommy. I had a sudden respect for her, but never underestimate a chi's ability to scare the daylights out of a kindergartner!

Then I laid young eyes on the even younger puppies. Both of them, 1 boy and 1 girl, were curled up into microscopic golden balls of fur. They were the smallest, most precious things I'd ever seen. Unfortunately, I didn't know my way around a camera and have no pictures, but I can assure you, baby chis will steal your heart and NEVER give it back. And so we brought the boy puppy home and then took some pics. His name was originally going to be Peanut, because he looked just like one. Then my parents decided to call him Killer, adopting an inside joke as well as the world's smallest breed of dog. His bark was MUCH bigger than his bite.

My sister and I with Killer. I'm the goofy-lookin' one holding him

The next few years with Killer were experimental ones. I'd just moved from San Leandro, a town about 25 miles away from my hometown, and away from the only other dog I knew. Maizy was a senior dog, so of course I didn't have a clue what to expect from a puppy. I tested Killer's boundaries and teased him as all children would tease a dog, and I learned quickly that he was a dog who wouldn't back down from a threat, regardless of size. I got barked at, growled at, bitten, and thrown up on on occasion. And once, I accidentally dropped him onto a hardwood floor after he squiggled out of my arms. Thankfully, he didn't have very far to fall.

Killer and I soon reached an age where we both mellowed out. He no longer cared to run around at 15,000 mph, and I didn't care to test his waters anymore. This was when he refused to chill with anyone who wasn't me, and he remained that way until his final moments.

And suddenly, I fell in love with photography and Killer became a favorite subject of mine. My little man was entering his later years and embodied a calmer demeanor. He was at ease around me and didn't mind me sticking a blocky camera in his face (believe me, he'd have let me know loud and clear if he did mind). To this day, I believe some of my best work is shots of my four-pound best friend.

On March 4, 2016, I was confronted with the worst day of my life by far.

The day I lost Killer.

I don't care to include every detail, but I did not want to live in a world without him. I hated everything around me; seeing townspeople taking their dogs on walks set my insides into a blaze of fury and envy. How dare they walk their dogs when I just lost mine?! I cried so much the skin and muscle around my eyes swelled to oblivion as if I'd been punched, and my vision grew blurred even during the sparse moments without tears. It was, quite literally, my worst nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

Please enjoy this gallery of my best Killer portraits. He was the universe and all its force.