Charlie

Spring has arrived, and the world outside my bedroom window is awakening. Through closed eyes, I envision the pear tree planted two years ago, stretching its young limbs toward the cerulean sky. In my mind’s eye, I can see clearly the plush, velvety grass glistening with the morning dew. I continue to lay motionless and let the sun’s warmth through the windowpane embrace my aching body.

Though my hearing is not what it once was, I listen to the birds in the backyard chirping, beckoning me to join them in nature’s festivities of the first day of spring. I open my eyes slightly, and see Old Bess, a red-breasted robin, perched on the windowsill gazing in at me. She does not understand that arthritis has claimed my once vibrant body for its own, and that I won’t be playing in the yard with her this year.

Jasper sits two feet away from me, without fear. He knows it is difficult for me to get up on my own. His body is growing old, too, though not as old as mine. He stands and ambles over to me and gives me a gentle head butt on my snout. A look of understanding is in his large eyes, as he begins to purr. He misses the games of chase as much as I do.

It is the weekend. I know this because the man and the woman are always gone before the first rays of sunlight shine through the window, except on weekends. I hear the sheets rustle as the man struggles to sit up in bed. We are all growing older.

I close my eyes again and sigh, embarrassed that I was unable to control my bowels through the long night. The man is not upset, though. He leaves the room momentarily, and returns with a wet cloth and towel. After cleaning up my mess, he gently washes my backside, where some of the mess is matted to my fur.

I feel his arms wrap around my body and he carefully lifts me into a standing position. He should not be lifting me. I am a large dog, eighty-one pounds per the vet. If the man gets injured lifting me, I will never forgive myself.

He slowly guides me down the hall, through the kitchen, and onto the back porch. The porch sits high above the yard and has many steps leading down. The man, however, has built a device to assist me in getting down into the yard. Stairs are no longer an option for me. He guides me into the wooden box. Once safely inside, he turns a crank that lowers the box down.

I am grateful for his efforts in assisting me, but I am also heartbroken. I know the time has come for me to leave this land, but the man and the woman are not ready to let me go yet.

As morning slips into afternoon, I hear the girl coming up the driveway with the little ones. Oh, how I wish I could run and play with the little ones like I did with the girl when I first came to this family. I lounge in the yard, basking in the warm sun, and dream of days gone by.

A short time passes and the woman and the girl walk down the porch steps to sit on the grass beside me. I lift my weary head and lightly lick the woman’s cheek. It is a feeble attempt to convey my love and appreciation for this woman who has taken such good care of me. I move my eyes to the girl. She is grown now. She reaches out and strokes my back. Her hands are so tender, much like the woman’s.

The sunlight reflects off the wetness on the girl’s cheeks making them sparkle. I see in her eyes the reluctance to let me go, but I sense that she has come to say good-bye. Oh, how I wish I could comfort her. I lay my head against her leg, and let her gently rub behind my ears. What painful bliss! It is so wonderful to feel her hands upon me, yet I know it is the last time.

They begin speaking in hushed tones. I close my eyes and sigh. After sixteen years, I have only mastered a few select words of their foreign language. “Charlie” is what they call me. And I heard “No” and “Down” more than any other words when I was just a pup. Although I do not understand their words, I sense that they are melancholic.

I raise my head when I hear the little ones run into the backyard. The man is close behind them. I slightly wag the tip of my tail at the sound of their laughter. Oh, how I will miss watching the little ones play.

The younger of the two boys runs a little too close to me and trips over my outstretched paws. He falls, hitting my hip with his elbow on the way to the ground. I yip out in pain, and snarl, baring my teeth. I feel horrible! I would never hurt the little ones. But I react naturally to the pain coursing through my body.

In unison, the man, the woman, and the girl scold the little one. He starts to cry. I lean close to him and lick the wetness from his face until he begins to giggle. If only I could speak their language, I would tell them not to reprimand the little one. He does not understand my pain, and I pray he never will.

My sense of smell has not abandoned me. I smell the plate of raw meat long before it reaches the grill and begins to cook. With all the strength I can muster, I push myself to a standing position. Oh, how my bones ache! I take a few wobbly steps and sit in the wooden box. I bark once, softly. Within minutes, I am laying on the porch at the man’s feet as he stands at the grill. He drops a raw hamburger on the ground in front of me and I gobble it down.

No one seems able to finish his or her meal. They are content to feed me their scraps, and I am content to eat, though I know what the repercussions will be. I have not been able to fully digest “people food” in a long time. I have been on a special tasteless diet for months now.

Day turns to night and the house is quiet again. My stomach is full. I take my place on the floor at the foot of their bed. It is a restless night for all of us. I can hear the man tossing, and the woman is weeping softly. I am miserable. I grieve for them. It is difficult for them to let me go, but I am grateful that they have accepted the inevitable. I am suffering; they must lay me to rest. Oh, how I pray I will just slip quietly away in my sleep, and save them the agony they will surely endure if they must take it upon themselves to have me put down.

Not for the first time, I wish I could speak their language. I need to let them know that I harbor no resentments. They need to feel no guilt in my death. My life has been long and happy because of the man and the woman.

I close my eyes. Before long, I am running in an endless field of plush, velvety grass, chasing chirping birds. My body no longer feels pain.