The last several days have been really rough.  I backed my car into a truck in the parking lot (I’ve never done that!). I had knee surgery.  One of my daughters, who had recently moved back to town, had to head back to San Diego through mid-April for work.  If you know me, you know how much I love my family.  I love having all my girls around me, and when they’re gone I miss them so much.  (Most moms are smiling right now).

This week has brought a different kind of heartache, however. The I-just-want-to-curl-up-in-a-little-ball-for-a-few-days kind of heartache.  This week I lost one of my dearest friends of 13 years, my yellow lab, Charlie.

If you’re not an animal lover, you won’t get this.  At all.  You’ll think these feelings are, well, ridiculous.  But if you love animals, especially if you have pets of your own, you know.  Our pets find a way into our hearts that is, on many levels, like children.  Dogs are a bit different than cats in that they don’t have that air of independence.  They have no problem letting you know you are the center of their world.

Every morning when I’d get up, Charlie was there.  I’d hear the click of his toe nails on the floor as he came to greet me.  He’d make loud thumps against the wall with his tail it wagged so hard.  When he was younger he’d dance around me.

As an older boy his body wagged as much as his tail.  I could actually see the joy in his eyes.  When I came home from work, he was right there at the door with the same greeting.  His favorite spot was on the floor by the area of the couch where I like to sit.  When we went to bed he’d come say good night – a little nuzzle of my hand, a little scratch behind his ears, and he’d head back to his cushion.

Charlie was truly the best dog – well behaved, dignified, quiet, hard-working.  My husband bought him to be his hunting dog.  Not only was he amazing at it, he just loved it.  Pursuing ducks was his dream job.  One of the few times he would wine or cry was when he was in the house and Andy was loading his truck to hunt.  Charlie was so afraid he’d be left behind.  We finally realized if we put him in the truck before the loading began, he was fine – he knew he was going.

I briefly tried my hand as a duck hunter.  I was clearly better at the hiking aspect.  Charlie sat with me as I waited for ducks to come in to a pond.  They did, I shot. . .and missed.  Charlie looked at me, rolled his eyes and walked back to Andy!  Hilarious

I could write for hours about the fun we had over 13 years.  If you’re not a pet lover, maybe I can explain the connection.  Pets, dogs especially, love you unconditionally.  They look at you with soulful eyes like you’re the center of their world.  Because you are.

They seem to know when you’re down and they’ll snuggle up to you to comfort you, and, yes, to get a little attention themselves.  If you’re good to them, they pay back that kindness a hundredfold.  The grief over their loss, I can tell you firsthand, is acute.  Right now I feel as though my heart is being squeezed in a vice while I am being simultaneously punched in the gut.

Over the years I’ve lost family members and friends.  I’m not trying to say losing a pet is harder.  What I am saying is this good boy was at my side, almost every day for thirteen years, giving me joy, loving me and telling me by his actions that I was the best thing in the world.  How does your heart not break when you lose that?

I love you Charlie.  You will always be remembered.