We adopted Charlie from the shelter when he was two years old and the card on his kennel said he had been returned twice. We couldn't understand why. Within a week we knew him: boisterous, a little nervous about strangers, wildly loving to his people, and deeply committed to naps. He just needed the right home.
For thirteen years Charlie was the anchor of our family. He was there when we brought our daughter home from the hospital, patient and gentle. He was there when we lost her grandfather, sleeping beside her all night. He was at every holiday dinner, hoping for turkey, getting a little turkey.
We lost Charlie at fifteen, gray around the muzzle and a little slow on the stairs but still happy. We held him and told him he was a very good boy — because he was, he really was — and he went peacefully. That is the most you can ask for. We will love him always.