Post by Deleted on Jul 30, 2015 14:51:59 GMT -5
My dog, best friend, and “little brother” died yesterday afternoon. He was a dog of many names. Chuck, Tuddy, Chaz, Buddy, Moose, and more. But to our entire neighborhood, he was Charlie. And Charlie was a h*ll of a dog. (NJ resident; read: dawg)
He was like a son to my mother, and like an uncle to our new puppy. He walked countless miles and made more people comfortable with dogs than I can tell you. People who don’t know my family ask for Charlie. People with more typical, energetic labs would ask us when their dogs would become like Charlie. All we could do was smile.
Charlie, baby, when you joined us on the 1st of February in 2003, you were a chunky little thing with that new puppy smell. You were the runt of the litter, and you took big mouthfuls of food back into your crate with you so your humans wouldn’t eat all the food. You were the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. You were my friend when I had none. When we walked for hours, I would tell you all my worries and all my secrets, and you would listen with your little human eyes. You would sit with me at the blessing of the animals, and when every other animal was going bezerk, you put your big head so delicately into the pastor’s hands. She blessed you in the light of the stained windows, and I saw you look into each others’ souls.
Dear Charlie, my little prince, thank you for keeping me safe when I was alone and afraid at night. You were 100 pounds of love, but several times you scared away a stalker with who knows what intentions. Thank you for not barking in a home where fear rebounded in a man’s voice. Thank you for poking your head over the side of the bed to make sure I was there at night. Thank you for hopping up onto my bed and sleeping with me when I was sick. Thank you for coming to see the horses with me. Thank you for kissing all the tears away.
I hope you know deep down that you are a good boy. I hope you know that you deserve peace and comfort, and that you don’t have to put on a brave face anymore. I hope I did right by you, little brother. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when they put you down. I wanted to hold your head and tell you that it was ok, that I loved you and I would always be there for you. Please, know that I wanted to be there for you with all my heart.
You don’t owe anybody anything, Chuck, especially me. I love you so much, and I miss you, but I know the lymphoma was making your life h*ll. You’re a good boy, Charlie Bear. I hope I was a good master. Rest in peace.
He was like a son to my mother, and like an uncle to our new puppy. He walked countless miles and made more people comfortable with dogs than I can tell you. People who don’t know my family ask for Charlie. People with more typical, energetic labs would ask us when their dogs would become like Charlie. All we could do was smile.
Charlie, baby, when you joined us on the 1st of February in 2003, you were a chunky little thing with that new puppy smell. You were the runt of the litter, and you took big mouthfuls of food back into your crate with you so your humans wouldn’t eat all the food. You were the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten. You were my friend when I had none. When we walked for hours, I would tell you all my worries and all my secrets, and you would listen with your little human eyes. You would sit with me at the blessing of the animals, and when every other animal was going bezerk, you put your big head so delicately into the pastor’s hands. She blessed you in the light of the stained windows, and I saw you look into each others’ souls.
Dear Charlie, my little prince, thank you for keeping me safe when I was alone and afraid at night. You were 100 pounds of love, but several times you scared away a stalker with who knows what intentions. Thank you for not barking in a home where fear rebounded in a man’s voice. Thank you for poking your head over the side of the bed to make sure I was there at night. Thank you for hopping up onto my bed and sleeping with me when I was sick. Thank you for coming to see the horses with me. Thank you for kissing all the tears away.I hope you know deep down that you are a good boy. I hope you know that you deserve peace and comfort, and that you don’t have to put on a brave face anymore. I hope I did right by you, little brother. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when they put you down. I wanted to hold your head and tell you that it was ok, that I loved you and I would always be there for you. Please, know that I wanted to be there for you with all my heart.
You don’t owe anybody anything, Chuck, especially me. I love you so much, and I miss you, but I know the lymphoma was making your life h*ll. You’re a good boy, Charlie Bear. I hope I was a good master. Rest in peace.
