Charley Jean

My only girl…Charley Jean. This is your story. 

Born on March 17, 2009, you came into our home on May 19, 2009. On May 13, 2024 your physical body left our home at the beautiful age of 15 years and 2 months. 

When we “rescued” you from the pet store, we were smitten. I broke the rules and tried to hide you in my “no pets allowed” townhouse along with your feisty feline brother, Jersey. I think after about two days of your cuteness I was ready to return you. You chewed EVERYTHING from carpeting on the steps, to the wooden legs of the couch and kitchen chairs. You were obsessed with napkins, toilet paper, and paper towels (preferably used). You terrorized the cat. And I could never wear you out. From my sprinkler, the kids slip and slide, the garden hose, streams, lakes, and even puddles, you never met a drop of water that you could stay out of. You lived in 3 different homes (two of them simultaneously as you bounced back and forth from my house to your dad’s), all of which you knew you were the queen of. Your hunting instincts were out of this world. So high, in fact, that you ripped off (with your teeth mind you) entire boards from our fence just to get a rabbit in the neighbors yard. We took you to doggy day care a couple of days a week in an effort to wear you out, only to have you come home ready to chew up more toys. As a young pup we signed you up for obedience classes. Joke’s on us. I’m pretty sure you only passed because of your adorableness. You “played” so hard with locusts that you actually killed them. You caught baby rabbits, and frogs. And my goodness you loved to dig! YOU HAD A MIND OF YOUR OWN. And up until the day you died, that was the case. If you could talk (but don’t worry, your body language said it all) you would’ve said “Don’t get in my face. Please don’t rub my ears. Do not tell me what to do, because I most likely will not listen. And certainly, do not look me in the eye. Thank you very much. But, feel free to scratch my butt and rub my belly.” Even with all of that sass, I defy anyone who reads this tribute to find a sweeter, gentler, more sensitive, kinder dog than you, sis. 

Your ability to sense sadness, anger, or fear in others, but especially in me, was uncanny. If I was crying or upset, rather than run to my aid and soothe me, you would do the exact opposite, and run in the other direction. It was as if my pain was too much for you to bear, and you needed to not feel my suffering. But, if we flip it, and talk about physical pain??! Well, that’s a completely different story. At times, I wondered if you even felt pain at all. We could step on your tail; accidentally kick you in the face; and trip over (or even right on) you, and not so much as a wince would escape your mouth. Kids would pull your tail and ears, aggressively pet you, lay and roll all over you, chase you, and annoy you. Dogs would do the same! Yet, in your sweet, sweet way you took it like the good-natured girl that defined you.

That sense of patience and pleasantry carried over into your ability to endure the high energy of your needy little siblings. Throughout your long and beautiful life you mothered, sistered, and endured not just one, but TWO baby brothers. We gifted you with Chance when you were around 3. We thought you needed a playmate to “calm you down”. Well, it worked. You wrestled, chased, played tug, swam, and wrestled even more with him. Yet you ALWAYS were the submissive one. You were still the ring leader of a few shenanigans, and you learned to “tattle” on your little brother when he was being naughty. You’d walk into the room that we were in, and glance at us, then glance in the direction of where the crime was being committed. As if to say, “Hey guys. He’s at it again…” 

Mama, you were an absolute SAINT with those two. Chance was ALWAYS needing to touch you. He was addicted to you. You were his living pillow, he was your shadow. Even though you were bigger than him, and quite possibly stronger at times, you found it simpler to just yield to him. You might have had opinions about things, but perhaps your mothering instincts, or big sissy vibes allowed you to keep your cool. You never found it necessary to put him, or Kobe into “their place”. Kobe kept you young after losing Chance. You taught him how to play fair, but once again you allowed him to have the upper hand by submitting to him and giving that baby boy what he always wanted. He too needed to be in your presence. He often “spooned” you, while you both napped. We have countless photos of his paw laying atop of yours, as if you’re holding hands. Up until about a week before your health began to significantly decline, you still generously allowed Mr. Kobe Bean to use your body as a tug toy. 

You NEVER fussed. In fact, you were that weird dog that actually LIKED going to the vet, and to the groomer. Even in your last days when I knew you were uncomfortable, you seemed to just tolerate it all. Not once in your life have you growled out of anger. Your bark was even pitiful because you rarely used it. Through your warts, itchy skin, and limited mobility that you experienced in your later years, you were still the epitome of a glass-half-full-kinda-gal. Which is why the last 2 days of your beautiful long-lived life felt so unfair. I am sorry we weren’t able to let you go just a few days sooner…you deserved that. But you were so loved by so many humans that we needed time for all of our goodbyes. Thank you for once again for not complaining, and for enduring the final stages of your life with limited fussiness. I know you were uncomfortable, and I am feeling so much peace for your soul now. You are at rest. 

Your mama likes a plan. You, Ms. Charley Jean, per usual, had your own agenda for when you wanted to cross over that rainbow bridge. We made a decision to have our vet come to the house to assist you (and us) in your transition. It was scheduled for Tuesday, May 14. We could tell by Monday that it was going to be a struggle for you. We wanted you to hold on so we could all be by your side. But, your dad, Keaton, and I witnessed your rapid decline. I’m not one to trust my own intuition all that much. I tend to second guess my decisions, and am often wishy-washy in my choices. But I had a strong feeling that I needed to stay home from work that evening, so I made arrangements to do so. Around 6:15 I could sense that you were uncomfortable. You appeared restless–not whining, whimpering, or panting…just unsettled. I thought I’d try to put you onto your side, as you had no use of your back legs by now. That seemed to calm you down for a short while. So, I decided to go outside to play with Kobe for a bit, but felt strange about being away from you. At 6:45 when I came back into the house your breathing had become labored. It wasn’t horrible…but then again, was it?? You certainly stayed calm–again, no fussing, and no fighting the process. I sat with you, as did Kobe. At 7:30 you began to struggle–trying to catch your breath, and appeared to be having small seizures…or something similar to that. While it scared me momentarily, my first instinct was to just BE with you. I called your dad, and he was with us both on the phone during it all. I kept saying “I don’t know what to do for her!” But your pops (who carried you, cleaned up your messes, got you to drink water, and eat nibbles of food throughout the week prior) stayed with us. He kept saying “Just stay with her babe…you’re doing great.” My heart was not hurting for me. My entire soul was aching for my BEST girl, in a way that felt like nothing I’ve ever known. I wanted so badly to help you, to ease your pain, to make it stop…Still, you didn’t fight it. You didn’t cry or whine, or even let out so much as a whimper. I just kept telling you, “It’s okay to rest mama…it’s okay to rest.” And before I knew it, you were completely still. Peaceful. Calm. At ease. 

Every person that met you was touched by you. You had this ability to share so much unconditional love. Were you loyal? Eh…not so much. Obedience wasn’t exactly a character trait that I would include in descriptors of you. And we can forget about labeling you as cuddly. Yet, people were so drawn to you. Always smiling, so brave and playful. You had a willing heart and were game for anything. My mom would joke and say, “Amy, if you all ever get burglarized you may as well just forget about Charley scaring anyone off. She will probably roll over on her belly and welcome them in gladly!” You were ALWAYS up for an adventure, and I know that right now you’re having alllllllllllll of the trail exploring, swimming, digging, wrestling, and playtime that your little heart desires and deserves. And I’m sure you’re indulging in hundreds of treats, sweet potatoes, peanut butter dollops, leftover fish skins, Starbucks puppy whip, and tons of human food that your mean ole mom never let you have. 

The boys barely remember much of their life without you. You’ve been such a steady and solid foundation in their lives. A pillar that held them up..a playmate, counselor, and best friend. They remember how happy you made them, and they ALSO remember how mad they got at you (but can easily laugh about it now). As a young pup you chewed up a Nintendo DS, school papers, a half-plus (give or take) bottle of ibuprofen, and over 15 VHS video tapes. We remember you ripping up presents under the Christmas tree, and surfing the countertop a time or two for raw meat. Most importantly, we remember the connection we all had with you. You were our first pet as a blended family. You brought us all together in ways we will never forget. We will always remember you, mama. 

I will miss so many things about you. Weirdly…I’ll miss the smell of your paws. As bothered as I would get about you lying DIRECTLY in the passageway from the dining room to the kitchen, I’ll be so sad to not step over you. Your sweet, precious face that looked up at me every time I was cooking is emblazoned into my memory. I’ll miss taking you for car rides, and watching you hang that giant head of yours out the window. I enjoyed brushing you, and grooming you. Your beautifully colored coat was thick and soft and perfect. I loved taking you to the dog park–I’m not sure if the other dogs loved you more, or if the people there did. I wish I could put my face into your furry chest one more time. The thought of not looking at your humongous dark chocolate brown (almost black) eyes brings a literal pain to my chest. But the magnificent and special memories that I keep are what brings me a feeling of tranquility in my soul. Even though you weren’t the least bit girly, I’ll miss my one and only girl. 

I learned so much from you, my sweet sissy-mama. I promise to do my absolute best to enjoy the moment like you did. I will strive to take time out for playing with my friends and family like you always would. When I have moments of feeling uptight and impatient I will try so hard to remember that “this too shall pass.” You didn’t even know the meaning of holding a grudge…so quick to forgive and move on. If that annoying person in the grocery line in front of me won’t shut their pie hole, I’ll practice being tolerant, patient, and kind like you were. Even when I feel uneasy about it, I’ll strive to speak up for myself with kindness, yet firmness. I want to live life to its fullest. I want to be like you, sis. Thank you for being the best teacher, companion, friend, and family member that I could ever ask for. I love you, big girl.