Celebration of Life: Marley, A Small Dog With A Big Personality

Marley – technically named Bob Marley, came into our lives the way some of the best things do: unexpectedly, a little scruffy, and in need of a bath.

Roughly 17 years ago, in late February, I took a day trip to Nogales for my son’s dental appointment. We were strolling along, enjoying the usual flurry of people buying, selling, and bargaining, when we came across a parking lot where we saw what I initially thought was an especially grimy rodent. My son, who saw it for what it was, picked up the grubby little creature and said, “I want this puppy!” And so began the start of our nearly two-decade adventure.

On a typical cold February evening (unlike the sweltering February’s of today), I tucked this tiny flea-ridden furball inside my coat (dirt, poop, and all) where he instantly rolled onto his back for belly scratches and warmth. The drive home was about an hour long, not including the walk across the border and a stop for food and water for the minuscule package now nestled in my jacket.

Upon arriving home, my mother’s eyes lit up, and her first words were, “I can’t believe it’s so tiny,” the very same words most everyone uttered after seeing him. It’s what we’re all so familiar with at first thought of a new puppy, like we can’t afford a dog right now. Who’s going to take responsibility for caring for a puppy? What will vet bills cost? This is a lifetime responsibility! BUT this little 1.5lb, dirty white ragamuffin stuffed with personality melted all that away at first sight.

He didn’t come quietly. The next day at the vet, we were told there was a high probability that he was a full-bred Bichon Frise, not that this was the problem. Unfortunately, given his small size and being underweight, he received his vaccinations earlier than ideal. I spent roughly 48 hours of fear and no sleep thinking I’d just “saved” a dog to deliver him to his doom! By the next day, he was a normal, happy puppy running, rolling, tugging on shoe laces, and surprisingly knew how to fetch with the only thing that would fit in his mouth – A gaming DIE!

We also learned pretty quickly that he loved to roll and dig in mud. If there was a puddle of anything, he was in it. He loved it with the enthusiasm of a dog who had decided early on that life should be lived fully and FILTHILY. Later in life, he discovered ice patches on an icy walk in Mt. Lemmon. Sliding was a new fun favorite! With a good run, he made it more of a four-legged Speed Skating Olympic event.

For his first six months, Marley enjoyed being a purse dog. He was so petite he could slip right in and curl up like a little burrito for a nap. I carried him everywhere like the world’s most adorable secret contraband. If there was a large purse or travel bag sitting around, he jumped in, ready to roll! A fun surprise party favorite for friends who set their purses on my floor.

Some dogs learn their names. Marley learned the specific names of his toys, not just “ball” or “toy.” If you asked for any of his five favorites by name, he would automatically retrieve them. He also learned several tricks. As he grew, he’d launch himself into my arms like a fluffy gymnast nailing their landing, which made it only too easy for him to counter surf when stools were left too close.

My bed became our bed, which he considered the only reasonable arrangement. This didn’t make my son very happy, but we both realized that Marley chose “Mom” to be his person. He loved Christian equally, but I was his choice “parent”.

While my shoulder was his favorite place to hang, I assume because of the view, for years, I carried him in a backpack with his little legs dangling out the back, completely floppy and relaxed. It was so irresistible that a simple grocery run often required an extra 20 minutes due to people stopping us. They’d ask questions, take photos, and inevitably show me pictures of their own dogs. He became The Tucson Dog Mascot, and he never minded the attention. In fact, I suspect he assumed that was the whole point.

During walks, he developed a special talent for walking close to me without a leash, obeying every command with precision, either leading the pack of the big dogs or perfectly in step like a fluffy 15lb escort who seemed to have very important places to be. Truth be told, he was a Velcro dog. In his last year, his walks became mostly rides on my shoulder. Then, the wagon rides, elegantly pulled by the neighbor dog, Koko. A sight to see, people again stopped to laugh and chat, and even drivers slowed to take photos.

Marley developed a few unique quirks that made him entirely his own. My favorite was the little skip or giddy-up in his walk with his back legs lifting into a gentle hop every few steps. When he was excited, he would snap his teeth together, “fly-biting,” as if he were trying to talk, which earned him the nicknames Chomper and Snapper. And perhaps most telling of his personality, Marley would pick up his own leash and head for the door when he was ready to go… which was particularly funny at the vet’s office.

Marley loved everyone. Whether you were a visitor – a stranger, or not, he begged to be held or planted himself next to you on the couch, expecting love, scratches, and snuggles. Even in his final moments, he snuggled with the veterinarian who came to our home and accepted her treats – the first in days. He genuinely loved Dr. Lisa’s presence.

My deepest appreciation goes out to Dr. Lisa Shriver of Lap of Love Veterinary Hospice. She came to my home and guided me through my grief with compassion, kindness, and grace, gently explaining each step along the way. As difficult as this decision was, it allowed Marley to leave this world the same way he lived it, surrounded by love, comfort, and kindness.

On December 15, 2025, while I held him in my arms, Marley peacefully left us. For nearly 17 years, this little pup with the big jump, the muddy paws, and the purse-sized beginnings skipped beside me through life. And while Marley may have started out as a miniature flea motel from Nogales, he somehow grew into something much bigger: A constant companion. A conversation starter. A mini legend with a backpack and a fan club.

And most importantly – My dog.