1. Debbie brought Charly home to Eugene back in 2006 and, over the next fourteen years, she lived an enviable life. She crisscrossed the United States, both by car and by jet plane. She lived in Oregon, New York, Virginia, Maryland, and Idaho. For about thirteen years of her life, she was what I guess we'd call a beta dog, taking her cues from her older half sister, Maggie, as to when to be on guard, to bark, to jump on the couch, lie down and rest, or when to go to bed -- almost everything.
We lost Maggie just over a year ago, on April 15th, when Debbie and I decided she'd battled cancer long enough, decided that the disease had robbed her of too much of her comfort, dignity, and energy.
A year ago, Charly also showed signs of decline as she was gradually losing the use of her hind legs. It wasn't long until she could no longer get to the back yard by herself. Charly and I forged a new relationship, one that centered on her dependence on me to carry her out to the yard and back in the house again. Debbie joined in helping Charly get in and out when she was back in Kellogg. But, for most of the last year, while Debbie was away teaching and helping care for Ellie, Charly asked me to adapt the rhythms of my life to the rhythms of hers. I happily complied.
This past fall, almost every night, anywhere from midnight to 4 a.m., Charly woke me up. She cried for food and often needed to go outside. We grew closer. By this time, she had stopped sleeping with me, but made it clear, from our living room, when she needed to eat or needed help to go outside.
I marveled at Charly's strength and courage. Often, even in the cold and dark of the late fall and through the winter months, even with snow on the ground, Charly dragged herself across the yard, seeking out those spots in the back where she loved the scents, and, when, during the day, it was sunny, Charly often loved the luxury of the sunshine and soaked it up, her body crippled but her face content, and sometimes, as if she wanted me to know the Corgi life force was alive in her, she'd just bark, not to come in, not because anything was going on, but just because she still could.
I can't remember when Charly stopped barking indoors at people going by or at other disturbances outside the house. Maybe she stopped when Maggie stopped, when Maggie had grown too tired to respond to the world that, in her younger days, had caused her so much concern, that she was so determined to warn us about and protect us from.
But, outside, Charly barked, until in the last few months, she stopped. She called to me, and upon her return to Kellogg, in mid-March, to Debbie, with high-pitched cries that she was ready to come in. I'd say it was about six weeks ago, maybe longer, that she quit exploring the yard and confined herself to dragging herself only about twelve feet or so into the yard to do her business.
Her appetite remained strong. Her spirit remained strong. Her mobility all but vanished. Charly's life had become confined to lying on the living room rug on a blanket, struggling to get comfortable, enjoying our company, crying for comfort food, and crying to go outside to relieve herself.
Then, she couldn't let us know she needed to go outside. She soaked her blanket.
Debbie and I decided to relieve Charly of this indignity and of her growing struggle to even move about.
Dr. Cook arrived at our house soon after 5:30 and I carried Charly out to the back yard so she could spend her last minutes of life in this place she loved.
Dr. Cook sedated Charly, then, after about ten minutes, administered the drug that made everything stop. Charly was at peace.
I carried Charly out to Dr. Cook's car and laid her to rest on a comfortable spot he'd made for her. I said good bye.
2. I decided, once and for all, this afternoon, that I didn't like the beard I'd let start to grow while lying low here at home. I shaved it off, gladly.
3. After Dr. Cook left with Charly, Debbie and I reflected back on Charly's life and talked about her and Maggie. We realized that for the last sixteen years we'd had one or two Corgis in our life and relived memories and expressed our grief that now they were gone.
Many people say that when a pet dies, it crosses over a rainbow bridge. Coincidentally, yesterday, not knowing we were letting go of Charly, Stu offered up this limerick to be posted today:
There are Primary Colors you know.
Mixing together the tertiaries show.
Just a glorious sight,
In sunshine so bright.
To gaze up and behold a rainbow.
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