Today marks the first anniversary
of Charlie’s death, which leaves a hole in my heart that no one and no other
pet could fill. His sweet disposition, sensitive spirit, and happy personality
are tender memories. I smile to remember his whole-body-wagging excitement over
favorite foods and treats and promised walks or rides in the car or guests at
the front door. Here’s my all-time favorite photo of him.
I loved being his mom. Taking care
of my baby boy was a privilege I couldn’t have imagined. When I think about his
big goofy grin and excited bucking whenever I announced, “Charlie, I’m making broccoli!!!
for your supper,” I cry. (Funny, my husband never responds to that announcement
with the same enthusiasm.) I loved Charlie’s patience with us, too, like not
waking us up, even when he wanted something. When I cried, he nuzzled my leg,
licked my cheek, and hovered around me till I got my emotional bearings. Wish
he were here for today’s tears.
Charlie’s HUGE vocabulary of
understood words and communication methods amazed me. For example, he rolled his eyes toward
the back door if he wanted to go out on the patio or toward the dog-food
cupboard when he was hungry. He went into the bedroom and rolled his eyes up to
say he wanted to be lifted up on the bed. If he was on the bed and wanted to be
lifted down, he rolled his eyes toward the floor. With so much hair, he didn’t
like getting hot, so if he wanted the ceiling fan on, guess where he rolled
those big brown eyes. When his water bowl got empty ... you guessed it.
And of course, the standard
communication for “I don’t want to ever, ever, ever be in the basement because I might have to endure a bath” was
to wriggle away and plod up the basement stairs. Once I carried Charlie to the
basement to wait out a tornado warning, and no matter how many times I told him
he wasn’t getting a bath, he hustled up those stairs—no small trick since they
were slippery wood. Finally, I picked him up, took him upstairs, got his
favorite dog bed, brought them both back to the basement, laid him on the bed,
and sat down right next to him on the floor. I petted him and talked soothingly
with him for a half hour or so until the tornadoes spotted nearby had passed. I
was as glad for his presence in my fear as he was for mine.
That was the thing about Charlie.
He just wanted to be near us. And we wanted to be near him. Both my husband and
I miss him dearly. There’s something about being a dog mom or dad that uniquely
shows you what love and joy are.
