Charlie

Charlie. Charlie Brown. Charles. Rotten. Beast. Charlie Brown Bunch. Brown. Stinker. Orlando Brown. Brown Boy. Mr Brown. Poopy Head. Poopy Puppy. Beastie Boy. Shit Head.

Today is going to be a hard day.

Yesterday morning I had to say goodbye to my best friend and childhood dog, Charlie. After over 15 amazing years with him, we had to let him go to free him of the pain he was in.  It kills me to know that when I woke up this morning, he was no longer here with us.
The past year his health has been slowly slipping from him even though he powered on just like his stubborn old self. The last couple weeks we noticed him slipping down a path that we doubted he could recover from. I imagine he would have pushed on despite the pain he was in, and the troubles he faced daily but we just couldn’t bear to see him suffer any more. I’m so sorry brown boy.

Charlie came to us on a frosty fall morning in 1999, bounding through the door as we went to go get KC, our other dog back inside. He was between 6-8 weeks old when he picked our yard to venture into. No one could deny that ridiculously cute face as he tore through the house, eventually diving nose first into a bag of KC’s kibbles, gorging himself like he hadn’t seen food in years. After reluctantly putting up flyers, news paper ads and making announcements of “Found Puppy!” at our school, no one claimed him. We guessed, with his young age and wonky ear, that he was a dump and run. We couldn’t be happier. Who on earth could say no to this amazing puppy? He gave us years upon years of havoc, growing up he LOVED to play Houdini and figure out how to get out of our barricaded back yard. I’m pretty surprised 9 year old me didn’t get ulcers from worrying over that lost pup all the damn time.

One time my mom and I caught him howling outside around midnight only to then see him disappearing under the fence which resulted in me sprinting barefoot and in my nightgown across the field to catch him.
He often escaped while we were at school and once, at recess, pretty much all of the Greenaway school students chased him down as he ran through the soccer field. I’ll never forget that day or the look of glee on his face as he ran with all the kids.
Charlie even made a few visits to Nicole’s house across the school field because he knew that treats would be found there.

He and KC had to be bailed out of ‘dog jail’ twice after being snagged by the spca while they out adventured together. Despite their tendency to wander, he did a lot of good for our old dog. He put a spring back in her step and made her last few years wonderful.
He ate the legs off of all my dinosaur toys but I eventually forgave him for that. His upside down smiles where too hard to resist.

I started my dog training skills early with Charlie. By the time I was 10, I had taught Charlie how to speak, shake a paw, roll over, balance a cookie on his nose, and play dead. He was an excellent student and would do pretty much anything for a treat. House training him was probably the worst part of puppy training. Eventually he learned to do his business on newspaper in the kitchen but when my grade four Explorers of BC project fell onto the ground, I woke up the next morning to find a heaping pile of dog poop right in the middle, and a happy Charlie pup wagging his tail in his potty time triumph.
One thing I didn’t know how to train back then was walking. We didn’t take Charlie for walks he took us! We got dragged all through Cloverdale but that’s alright. He had all the fun in the world.
Boy was he all sorts of trouble, knocking down our Christmas tree and breaking all my mom’s family ornaments or stealing roasts off the counter. No one could get mad at his handsome face for long though.

Charlie grew up with us as the years went by. We fondly remember of yelling “SQUIRREL” just to see him run off the back deck at full speed in attempts to catch his arch nemesis or hiding in our room under the blankets and shouting for him so he could come and find us. We would laugh as his ass and tail prints on the frosty deck in the winter months. He had us nearly dying of giggles when he found an old ice cream bucket and threw it around the back yard with glee, delighted that he discovered this fun new game.
The noises he would make were hysterical too. Moo’s and grunts and strange huffing. He was the king of all weird sounds. Getting him to howl was a chore. He would often wind up by barking non stop before letting out a little tune. It always made us laugh though.
“DADDY”S HOME!” was always the evening chorus that made our brown beast get up and run frantically to the door to await dad coming home from work. We always giggled and made fun of him for turning into a fuzzy, wiggly ‘C’ shape whenever any of us returned from being out.
He was my silent companion. I loved sitting out on the back deck with him in the summer or giving him belly rubs in the living room. I loved playing the game of scratching under the blankets and he would nose and nibble looking for the source of the movement.
When we got back from vacations he would be sooo excited but then remember that we had abandoned him and sulk for a little bit before snuggling down and making sure we didn’t leave again.
I loved how he used to jump on the couch and growl and snort while rolling upside down and rubbing his face on everything.
I miss how my dad would come home and ‘beat up the dog’. He loved to roughhouse and play fight with my dad. His signature move was called the full puppy takedown!
I really wish we had digital cameras back when he was a baby. I do have old film photos of him that I will have to dig up but this day and age its so easy to take pictures.
He wasn’t ever all that skilled in fetch but made up for it in other ways.
At bedtime he would always lay in my bed as I read. Always, I would be jammed up in the top corner with my body pressed against the wall to ensure that he had adequate space but once I started moving too much (I am an acrobat in my sleep) he would jump off and go find a quieter place to rest.
Charlie was the neighbourhood dog and everyone on our street (and beyond) knew him and as he sat out in the front lawn or walked patrolling through the neighbourhood, others would offer him pets.
People we didn’t know would walk by and say hello to Charlie, using his name and everything. It was funny to see and our brown beast loved the attention.
He came to neighbourhood events. He supervised our yearly bocce tournaments and attended nearly all summer BBQ’s and bonfire gatherings. He was always happy to tag along no matter what we were up to.

He came with us camping up to the Thompson river and ran straight into the rushing water. Never in our lives had we been more afraid but there he was, our brown beast running back onto shore, sopping wet with the new realization that that blue thing was indeed water. Mom says that same camping trip he peed in their test because he couldn’t figure out how to get out.
Charlie was an amazing host at get togethers, always making sure the floor was clean of crumbs and scraps. He had an amazing talent of hearing the fridge’s cheesebox being opened, even when he was nearly comatose asleep.
Thank you, Charlie for all the amazing memories you gave us. Thank you for being a fuzzy shoulder to lean on and the best friend a girl could ask for. I will miss you with all my heart for the rest of my days but maybe I will be comforted by the fact that you are no longer in pain or distress. See you at the Rainbow Bridge.
Love you forever and always, my fuzzy rotten beast. Xoxoxo

If love alone could have kept you here you would have lived forever.