A Best Friend

I'm moving this piece to its proper place in order of creation, August 25 of last year.

*****
I lost a friend today. A best friend. And good friends are hard to come by. My daughters conspired to get us together a couple years ago. When we first met I knew he was a kindred spirit. When he joined me on our first drive home there was a tear in my eye as I knew this was the beginning of a very important relationship. When he left me today there were several tears.

Charly was old and cantankerous, just like me. He was sometimes smart, usually just stubborn. He loved taking me for walks around the neighborhood until his arthritis made that too hard for him. I struggled to understand him, and he struggled to understand me. He hated toys. The closest he ever came to “fetch” was when I’d put a toy in his mouth to try to interest him and he’d carry it about 10 feet away and drop it. I’d pick it up, bring it back to him, and try again. And again he’d take it about 10 feet away and drop it. I guess he taught me to “fetch.”

Charly ate every meal as though it was his last, but otherwise didn’t like much of anything except just hanging out with me. He wasn’t much of a lap dog, but he loved to lie on the couch or chair right next to me and reach up occasionally to lick my face. If I got up for something, he’d leap off the chair and follow me around until I sat down again. When I swam laps, Charly would run laps, hoping to meet me at the end of the pool to lick me a couple times before I continued swimming. Near the end, he’d just sit by the pool and wait for me to get out, then lick my ankles as I dried off.

I never had a dog as a boy, and had no experience losing a pet. I lost a lot of fish and a couple of birds, but never a companion. Charly was somewhere between 12 and 13 years old with a tumor I’d been in denial about since we met and with arthritis for the last six months. So even though I’ve known for weeks that Charly was reaching the end of his life, I wasn’t really dealing with it. Two nights ago he took a turn for the worse, and no longer ran around sprightly on 3 legs. It was all he could do to stand up and whimpered in pain. I arranged what would probably be his last trip to the vet. Last night I tried to make him comfortable and soothe him, but with little success. I saw in his eyes a plea to help him out of his pain. Whether that came from within him, or was a reflection of my own feelings, I don’t know, but I knew we were probably spending our last evening together.

This morning we were at the vet’s office as soon as it opened. One look at Charly and she nodded that it was his time. She weighed him for the last time and brought in the needle. When I laid him on the table, he stopped whimpering as though he knew his pain would soon end. I thought I was prepared for what came next, but I was wrong. As he relaxed in my arms I was overwhelmed with a feeling of loss.

Some day I might rescue another old dog, but not now. Charly is still my dog. Good friends are hard to come by.


Charly acting like Lani doesn't exist