Lily

Meet Lily — the heart and soul of the Three Chimigos. (c. 2008 – April 21, 2025)

Lily was the beginning. The first rescue, the first heartbeat that started it all, even before Robin's Nest had a name, and the soul of what would become a sanctuary for so many. Kimber met her in 2010 at the San Diego Humane Society — a young Chihuahua mix who had already known the hardship of motherhood too soon. It was clear she had recently given birth, though her puppies were gone.

That quiet loss became her secret, carried silently but lived out in the way she poured her heart into caring for everyone who came after. From that moment on, Lily became not only Kimber's steadfast companion, but also the spark that started it all.

Known affectionately as the Matriarch, Lily carried herself with dignity and purpose. She was the original greeter, caretaker, and center of the pack. Larger in spirit (and in size) than her brothers Alberto and Julio, she lovingly kept them in line, groomed them, and guided them with a maternal devotion that never wavered. Together they were legendary: The Three Chimigos.

Lily was a communicator, her gaze and expressions speaking volumes. Kimber could read her eyes as though they were a language all their own — every wish, every insistence, every bit of wisdom. She was also deeply social, forming bonds that endured across time and distance.

When her brothers passed before her, Lily grieved in a way that reminded us just how deep her heart ran. She called for them on the deck, lifting her voice into the distance as though she could still reach them.

Though she was the oldest, she held on and was the last to go. Her passing was sudden and unexpected, and Kimber was with her at the very end — a tender moment that remains both a gift and a lifelong reminder.

Through nearly two decades of life, surgeries, medications, triumphs, and loss, Lily remained our constant — resilient, tender, insistent, and fiercely loving. She was not just the matriarch of The Three Chimigos; she was the heart of Robin's Nest itself.

Grieving the Loss of a Beloved Companion

With the loss of these precious, innocent and giving souls, we've come to understand more deeply the reality of disenfranchised grief — the kind that comes from losing an animal companion but isn't often recognized or supported by society. When a pet passes, there are no casseroles. No days off work. No flowers or formal condolences. Yet for many of us, that loss is profound — and lasting.

We are all just walking each other home. — Ram Dass