On the kitchen floor, my little sister and I gave the dog a group hug as my mom was cooking something. Laughing, I wanted to get a rise out of her, so I asked my mom – Is he my brother, my son, or my friend?
It’s hard to write when you don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to leave the house and I love people. I don’t want to listen to songs and I love music. My favorite color is blue and I am drowning in it.
I remember the day you came home. Actually, I came home to you. I was too young to drive so my first glimpse of you was from the backseat. My mom had a lease tied lamely around your thick neck, and you were dwarfing her! A muscular, hulking beast with sharp claws, but your face held a somber gaze. Your amber eyes sparkled in the golden hour as those first stars faded into view.
Gazed up at the stars together, those precious final hours. She stood in the doorway with a quilt, but I thought if we laid out there some more, I wouldn’t get back up. I carried you back inside.
One of the first things I learned about him, aside from his ferocious roar? He loved hugs. My mom told me that while scrubbing a plate one evening as I let him crawl toward me on the floor. “Go ahead, hug him!”, so I did, and he stuck his neck out all the way. She was certainly right.
From there, it was really only a matter of time and circumstance. He slept in my bed every night, positioned like a human being. Charlie didn’t sleep at the foot of the bed; he slept hot dog style, head on the pillow. I think he was watching George Lopez with me because he was facing the TV on my dresser.
Charlie wasn’t just a household star, though; he was a celebrity. Everyone knew about Charlie the Chocolate Lab. I’d put pictures of him everywhere online, and in some places, he was the only picture I’d use. I’d name my accounts after him and find new ways to reference him in conversation. At Christmas, I got socks with his face on them from my older sister.
We never exactly knew how old he was. In fact, we only had him because a friend of my mom’s dropped him off for the weekend – he was ‘Zorro’ until my mom thought Charlie Brown was better – and never came back. I’d always tell the vet he was 10 years old, but if that’s true, then he’s been 10 since 2018 when he started going to the vet.
My mom seemed aware of his age crisis because that was one of her reasons for getting Lucy later on. Also, we’d had Charlie for a few years by then, but with me leaving home and my sister getting older, we thought he’d need a friend. So one day we all drove out to a farm down the road and came back home with Key Lime – later Lucy – the Yellow Labrador. We were afraid Charlie would eat her, but he was gentle with his new little sister. She was with him until the end. As I write, she still does not want to go into his corner of the garage.
Charlie and I would later bounce from one living arrangement to another. He knew a lot of couches in his days, but it makes me happy that he and I finally settled back into a house for the final few months. After nearly two years of uncertainty, he had a yard to run in, rooms to play in, and squirrels to chase. With him still was his golden sister, and joining them two cats. It's harder still to put this into words, but after years of making friends and seeing new sights, Charlie’s health began to decline. In his last weeks, we made him a nest in the garage, both to keep him quarantined from his younger sister and to get his health under control. But his health never did improve, and with that mysterious feeling of esoteric knowledge that comes only where the subconscious meets dark matter, I knew it was time to bring my family over for a visit. They ran their fingers through his fur, comforted him, and I told them to come back whenever to visit him again.
Late that night, way after we’d slept in the grass under the stars, I went out there again just to hold my baby boy one more time. You were nesting behind the washing machine, curled up into a brown ball. You didn’t move your head but your eyes met mine once more. Each step I took down into the garage felt like when you first put an ankle into the sea and feel the waves take hold. I stumbled my way toward you and wrapped you tightly into your blanket. I got on my side and curled my whole body around you like when you slept in my bed in high school. I ran my fingers through your fur and said a prayer for you. Please, just let it be easy for him. The motion lights faded off and it was just you, your scent, your body. Your quickened heartbeat, your ragged breath. I started to wonder:
“Do you remember your mom, Charlie?”
The thought tore at me, and I thought of my mom just hours earlier. I knew she’d want to see you one last time, her and the kid both. I know now that I didn’t have that thought through sheer coincidence. How she used to chase you around the house with her broom, and that one time she hit you with the empty pizza box so hard that your head went through the greasy cardboard. My boy could eat, couldn’t he? She was always quick to remind guests: I’m not an animal lover! But there, her body sprawled atop his, clinging on to those final breaths, I knew the truth, and I knew that Charlie didn’t have just one mother, and I knew that Charlie wouldn’t be alone forever.
My eyes opened, and I could taste the sleep in my mouth. I sat up and saw you not yet dreaming off to the side. I placed my palm off the side of your face. I sang you a lullaby, gave you your old collar, and tucked my red pajama shirt into your burrow. With one hand on the guardrail, I took one final look at his figure. He started to relax and his breathing steadied. “Good night, buddy. I’ll see you in the morning,” and I closed the door. I got into bed, prayed some more, and dreamt of three.
When I found him in the morning, he was laying hot dog style across his quilt, my shirt peaking out from under his arm.
There are things you know, and there’s things you learn, and then there’s things you learn you knew all along. And now I know a lot more than I did this morning. I know what it’s like to mourn. I know what it’s like to bury a friend. But most importantly, I know the answer. Charlie, you were all three and more. I took care of you like my son, and we shared a home like brothers. But in the afterglow of your trusting gaze, I spied those eternal embers of friendship. I saw you in my dreams, and you woke me from my nightmares. You brought families together and friends back home. You protected the least of us and snuggled close at night. You cleaned my kitchen floors and made the living room cozier than any blanket. You stole the show on Facetime and gave my friends endless stories. When I left for school every morning, I was worried you wouldn’t be home to greet me; you were here for so long that we then made a home together. I’ll never forget you, Charlie, and I can promise you that your sister will miss you very, very much. We all will. I love you Charlie.
And the two Labradors laid in the grass, bodies pressed together in friendship. Above them, the first chill of an October moon. The stars were so pretty up above.