November 18, 1995 – April 26, 2009

Charlie’s life was never easy…

Read moreMy Charlie, my Mink-mink, my Shark-a-toothus, my Gussy Mussy, my Mightus Bitus, my King Mutt Mutt, my Snuffleupagus, my Snortus Mortus, you came to us six months old…abused. We suspect you came from a puppy mill and your first owners rejected you. From your actions, we suspected you were caged your entire young life. We first met you at the humane society, and after no one else came along to adopt you, they agreed to let you come to us.

You had a broken tail, which healed imperfectly, and your tongue was split from some horrific injury. Your fur was so matted that you had to be shaved, and the humane society required that you get neutered the day you came to us, which was just more trauma for you to endure. How much could a little creature endure? Our hearts just broke for you.

It was my mission to make things right for you because of all the things other people did wrong. I was going to give you a home, and a life. I was going to give you love, and hope I could change you, but some how time never healed your wounds even after thirteen years. And then when your eyesight went at four years old, it only made things more challenging for you. Your fears intensified and you always feared abandonment no matter what we did, but we continued to love you anyway.

We fenced in a yard so you could have freedom. We bought you a ball that squeaked when it rolled so you could find it by sound, and you learned to love that. Blind and all, you’d chase it down the hill and under the pine tree and when you couldn’t find it, we’d say “There it is” when you were hot, and “No, no!” when you were cold, and with your unrelenting spirit, you always found your ball and played fetch with us. You barreled down that hill with joy many years before your interest slowly faded away. You never let your blindness stop you.

You loved to schnoodle your pig ears every Saturday. You sucked and susseled them until they were mush because your teeth were so crooked, you couldn’t crack them, but you always managed. You let us know you could do anything you set your mind to. That’s for sure! You let it be known you never wanted help as much as we wanted to give it to you. You had incredible pride.

You fought for a place on this earth, and you let your voice be heard. You howled if you felt we left, even when we were nearby. And if we didn’t listen to you, without a thought, you’d grab our foot with a firm hold, and let us know you didn’t approve. At times, you lashed out, and scared us, but we were committed. You weren’t going to chase us off. We loved you, and we were always going to be there for you.

Your favorite food was no doubt salmon: canned, smoked or fresh. You didn’t care. You loved fish, in general, too. All fish–including sushi, sardines and even anchovies! You let it be known to us that you preferred fish to meat any day, which blew us away. You were a fish and veggie dog that’s for sure. When you were young, you took out your aggression on broccoli stalks (remember we called them Rockly-bones?). You loved munching raw carrots (we called them carrote-ies), and cauliflower? You never saw the messes you left behind, but I’d find hundreds of little cauliflower crumbs you failed to sniff out. They always made me sigh, and then smile as I cleaned them up. If you weren’t going to accept anything else, you were going to eat like a king, that’s for sure.

We were amazed when you decided you liked a nice vinegar and oil salad with cucumbers, tomatoes, mushrooms, and even onions. Somehow, though, these last few years, you changed your mind on that. Did you develop a picky palette after all your exposure to good foods? You always gave me peace that I never had to throw anything away because if no one else wanted it, you’d be sure to gobble it up. You even loved shrimp shells — go figure. It was a good and natural source of calcium. And you liked sour pickles, who knew? You also made it very clear you never wanted black olives. Blech!! It was the one food you rejected every single time. In reality, you just loved to eat. It was your one of your biggest pleasures in life, no doubt. And it was my pleasure too, to feed you and watch you happily chomp away.

Charlie, you taught me how to be proud no matter what your obstacle. You always let us know that you could do it. Loosing your eyesight didn’t deter you. You never wanted help. You were very independent and walked on the leash as if you could see. You were always going to do it, whatever it was, no matter what. You didn’t give up when furniture was moved and you hit walls. You got back up and continued on. You played with your ball, throwing it over your back and running around the living room– just seeing shadows and you rarely knocked anything over. You were incredible that way. You were going to have a life, regardless. You persevered. You were strong. You wanted to live.

And yet all these years, we hurt for you. We longed to love you like our other dog. We longed to hold you, and spoil you with affection, but you never were able to handle it. You hated it and weren’t shy to let us know. I never managed to hold you once in thirteen years, and that pains me deeply. I played by your rules, and food was your love of choice, and so I indulged you there.

And then Lulu got sick and required all our attention, and you were pushed to the side. Your voice wasn’t heard and acknowledged as much because her situation seemed much more dire. We both envisioned time with you, and you alone, after Lulu passes. We figured we could spoil you like crazy then. You’d have your day as the only dog, the top dog, but little did we know that you needed us more than she did, and we feel we let you down, when you needed us most.

Oh how I wish I could take time back and make it right, Charlie. You so deserved it. Just know, with all of my heart that I loved you and I tried my very, very best.

You will always be my baby boylie, my sweet Charlie, my baby Binky. My heart aches more than words could ever express.