Some songs begin with a story. This one began with a little dog who became family.
Thank You, Chiquita is a three-song Songimony built from the memories of a husband and wife whose lives were unexpectedly changed by a four- or five-pound puppy named Chiquita. They weren’t really looking for a dog. Then they saw a litter in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho—the only female among the puppies—and she was chosen almost immediately. She was tiny enough to fit in the palm of a hand.
At first, he didn’t want a dog at all. They traveled too much, he thought, and a dog would tie them down. But Chiquita had other plans. Before long, the little dog who was technically hers had become especially attached to him. She slept on his stomach, waited for them on the couch, traveled wherever they could take her, and eventually became their shared “baby.”
The interview revealed that Chiquita’s personality was every bit as memorable as her size. She expected visitors to acknowledge her before entering the house. She rode on laps during long drives. She quietly accompanied them through years of travel and even through his cancer treatments at Loma Linda. And in her final years, when she became frail, a tiny paw on the face at three in the morning was enough to say, I need you.
The music was personalized to the people telling the story. They have a deep affection for the music of an earlier generation—music with melody, harmony, restraint, and the warmth of the Glenn Miller era. So rather than turn Chiquita’s story into a contemporary pet memorial, the album reaches backward musically: vintage swing, intimate balladry, piano, upright bass, brushed drums, clarinet, saxophone, muted brass, and close vocal harmonies.
The three songs tell the story from different angles.
“Thank You, Chiquita” is the heart of the collection—a shared expression of gratitude from the two people who were given sixteen years of unconditional love.
“My Little Girl” gives the story to her. It remembers the woman who chose the only girl in the litter, carried her home, and watched that tiny puppy become the center of a family.
“Chiquita, Daddy’s Girl” gives the story to him—the man who initially said no to having a dog, only to discover that the little dog he didn’t want would become one of the great loves of his life.
Together, the songs are less about losing a pet than remembering what it means to be loved without conditions. Chiquita didn’t ask for anything in return. She simply followed them, welcomed them, traveled with them, waited for them, and loved them.
Sixteen years later, the house is quieter.
But the music keeps her there.
Thank you, Chiquita.