It’s been just over four months since Charlie passed away, and I’m missing him now more than ever. The fresh grief over his loss, the flood of sadness and relief that his suffering has ended, have passed, and now we’re settling back into a life where he’s just not here.
And I really miss him.
Sitting at my table, missing him snoozing by my side all morning while I work. Hearing his clickety clacks as he comes in to check on me in the bedroom or the bathroom. His constant presence right near us, whether on the couch watching TV or outside, snoozing in the sun.
I miss how well he knew the rhythms of our day, his excitement to go for a walk, his excitement for his breakfast (and his dinner, and for morsels of any meal we ate). I miss him sitting on the back of the couch waiting for Gregg to get home in the evenings. Curled up in the back of the car on road trips. Always right there.
I miss his angelic face. His soft ears and deep brown eyes. His whiskers and the white on his face. His little pork chop legs and the way his front legs curled while he slept. His careful sniffs and his confident strut.
I miss his stoic little personality. Charlie was unbothered. He wasn’t reactive towards people or other dogs. Looking back, we were lucky that he rolled with so much - all the dogs who boarded with us, all the kids that came through our house, all the changes that happened over the years. He was such a gentle soul, truly. I know all dogs are good dogs - but that’s what he was. He was just purely good.
I know we’ll welcome another dog into our lives someday. But right now, I just want to honor and remember Charlie.
The last year of his life was hard as he navigated multiple health conditions. He had severe arthritis in his spine and had been on NSAIDS for many years. He had hypothyroidism, canine vestibular disease, chronic kidney disease, and was experiencing cognitive decline. We did our best to make sure he was comfortable, but it was a hard year for him, and for us.
There is so much involved in caring for an aging dog that you don’t necessarily think about when they are younger. So many appointments, trying medications and treatments, and conversations with the vet. More and more accommodations at home. Watching closely for changes. Constantly asking yourself whether they’re comfortable, whether you’re doing enough, whether quality of life is there, and eventually whether you are holding on too long.
When he went into kidney and liver failure, and the vet told us it was time, I will be completely honest that there was relief mixed in with the shock and sadness. As I said goodbye, I felt his little body relax in a way it hadn’t for so long. I held him for a long time, and tried to pour my love and gratitude into his still body. I am so grateful that we were able to give him the gift of a compassionate goodbye. He deserved nothing less for all he gave us.
Our family spent a lot of time after that talking about Charlie, writing and drawing pictures. Our son asked a lot of questions about what was next for Charlie, what happened to his body, if Charlie could still see what we were doing. We still look at pictures every day, and talk about our sweet boy. He even gave us a gift in his death, that he helped our son to process and better understand what death means and how we can honor and hold on to those who have passed.
As with any loss, I think it takes time for the difficult parts at the end to recede enough for the more positive memories to rise back to the surface. I think that’s where I’m getting to now. I’m reflecting a lot on what a gift it is to have a companion like a dog. What a gift it is that we get to have these friends who ask really very little of us except care, companionship, the chance to walk around outside and sniff, and to be treated with gentleness. And I have so much respect for the people in this community who take on that commitment, not as an afterthought but with so much intention and love. It’s simple, but it’s really not easy a lot of the time.
I’m sure we’ll have another dog in our life at some point, but our family is going to take a break for a little while. We need to rebuild our capacity, care for each other, take care of our work, lives, and responsibilities, and focus on our growing kid who has more needs and is doing more. I don’t want to bring another dog into our lives until we feel like we have the space to give them what they deserve.
When I think about the period of our lives when Charlie was with us, I do feel proud of the life we gave him. We took him on the long sniffy walks he loved. Before our son was born and when our son was little, we went on tons of hikes and outdoor adventures, and planned trips around Charlie and what would work for him. As he got older, we spent a lot more time at home with him, made sure his routines were clear, and prioritized his comfort.
I think that is so much of what caring for a dog asks of us. To notice what they need at different stages of life and make room for it - whether it’s adventures, favorite games or toys, long sniffy walks, time together, or, as they get older, more rest, more comfort, or support for pain. To balance the realities of our own busy lives with the responsibility we have taken on for this animal who depends on us.
It’s a big responsibility, but more than anything, it feels like it was an honor. Caring for Charlie was a gift that repaid our family a thousand times over, and was as true a representation of love as anything else I can imagine. Rest easy, sweet Charles, and thank you for being the best boy, just by being you.
