IN LOVING MEMORY
A TRIBUTE TO OUR FURRY FRIENDS
Our pets give us love , companionship , and memories that stay long after they ' re gone . In this space , we honor the lives of our loyal companions who left paw prints on our hearts . Their stories remind us that even in their final moments , they remain part of our family . Join us in celebrating their lives and the joy they brought to us .
Charlie ’ s Obituary
Iswear to God . If she could talk , I ’ d have to shoot her .”
Charlie never really seemed to mind when I said that . Generally , there would be a few of my friends sitting around a fire or on the dock
“ at the camp . There would be an open bottle of
Old Forester and thirty or forty cigarette butts scattered on the ground . An iPod would be playing in the background , generally low to begin and skulljarring by midnight . Charlie would be stretched out on her side , ears flopped down , shaking mosquitos away and snorting when she heard something interesting .
Charlie was my constant companion . The day she learned to “ load up ” in the back of my pickup was the proudest moment of my life . I ’ ve got three human children now , and nothing so far has touched it . She was fair-to-middling on a dove field . Even a little proper training would have made her a phenom ; she was a natural . But as a pet and companion , there was none better . When I wanted to go , she wanted to go . When I wanted to sit alone and read or sleep or sulk , she just stretched out at my feet . She loved everyone and everyone loved her . If she had a character flaw , it was that she pilfered cat food from a 2-mile radius and would upend a trash can for half a Papa John ’ s pizza . But one shrill two-finger whistle brought her barreling back like she might be late for supper .
“ She ’ s a bird dog ,” my father always said . “ I ’ ve never seen one that didn ’ t act like they were starving .”
She loved a tennis ball . She loved the River . She loved a shotgun . She ’ d dance when she saw a shotgun . That crazy dance where the body vibrates from back to front in no particular rhythm . Only Labs can do it .
She hated my guitar . Maybe that ’ s a sign .
She might have been an angel , sent to watch over me when I seemed to have no interest in doing so myself . I got her in February 2001 . I was 25 years old , four months shy of 26 , and she was 6 months old . I had a full-time job , my own home , and absolutely no idea what it took to take care of myself . . . much less a puppy . I was nothing more than an overgrown frat boy ; still starting the weekend on Thursday , struggling through Friday , running like a sailor on shore leave on Friday and Saturday , laying up on Sunday and Monday , and beginning to hit my stride again by Tuesday to do it all over again . Charlie never judged . She essentially housebroke herself and looked at me with eyes that said , “ I love you . I love you no matter what . Don ’ t be stupid .” More than once , she laid on the toolbox on the back of my truck , parked at the front door of the neighborhood
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