Forever in Our Hearts

This is the post that I’ve most dreaded having to write. But when you bring a dog into your life, you know in the back of your mind how the story will likely end up. No amount of love, money, prayers, or treats can change the unavoidable, unfair part of life where your soul dog, your closest companion, will leave you.

Today, we should have been celebrating Charlotte’s 11th birthday. Instead, we are deep in the throes of grief as we are mourning her recent passing, and are remembering the over 10 1/2 years that we got to spend with her.

I don’t want to go into all the details of the worst week of our lives – believe me, I’ve picked it apart over and over in my mind, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. How did we show up in Iowa with a (seemingly) happy and healthy almost 11 year old puppy, only to have to say goodbye to her less than a week later? I try to remind myself of the facts: we took her to her annual vet appointment, and learned that she maybe wasn’t as healthy as she appeared. From there, we took things one appointment, one day at a time, always making what we believed to be the best decision for her that we could. We would have done anything, spent any amount of money to try to save her, to give us more time together. On her last night, we drove 2 hours in the night to Iowa State University’s vet clinic to get her the best care and access to the testing that she needed. But it was there that we learned of the severity of her case, and were given the worst news of our lives.

The fact that things went downhill so quickly has been so hard for us to grapple with (and I’m sure if you’ve been reading along, dear readers, you probably didn’t see this coming so soon). I’m trying to see it as a blessing for her that the end wasn’t a long, drawn out, painful process. She was only really in distress for her last 12 hours of life. For the rest of her almost 11 years, she lived every day to the fullest. Even when she was blind, she was mostly independent, and her days were filled with the things she enjoyed. We never ever wanted to have to make the decision to say goodbye, but in the end, it wasn’t a decision that had to be made, because the answer was clear. Her heart was no longer stable, she could no longer do the things she loved, and she was just hanging on for our sakes. Letting her be free from pain was the last gift we could give her.

In her last moments, our lives together flashed through my mind. From our first meeting in a tiny room in Tucson, Arizona, to our final goodbyes in a tiny room in Ames, Iowa, and the 10.5 years in between. From the first day, we were committed to loving this adorable puppy, and to giving her the best life we possibly could. I hope she enjoyed it as much as we did. She not only put up with 7 cross country moves and our eventual transition into nomad life, but she somehow learned to thrive in every environment. She chased geckos in Arizona, South Carolina, and Hawaii. She hiked mountains all over the country, in every season, from the summer heat to winter snow. She dashed through the sand, kicking it up beneath her feet on so many beaches. She traveled to all 50 states and 9 Canadian provinces, traveled via cars, planes, trains, ferries, on foot, and sitting in between us in our kayak. I could go on and on about all the silly little metrics for her travels that we keep track of, but I know at the end of the day, those didn’t matter to her. All that she cared about was that she got to be with us, doing whatever we were doing, smelling new smells and having new experiences every day, and that each night ended with her curled up in bed between us. That is the life we gave her, I hope she had the best life.

It also breaks my heart having to share this news with all of you, dear readers, because I know many of you loved her too, whether you had the pleasure of meeting her, or if you just knew her through this site, and watched her grow up from adorable puppy to a beautiful, confident, adventurous dog and our loving companion. If any of you have memories of her, or pictures of her, we’d love to hear or see them.

We love you, Charlie, forever and always. Thank you for all the love and joy you brought to our lives. We’ll spend the rest of our lives missing you, remembering you, and looking for you wherever we go. I believe someday we’ll be reunited, you with a beautiful new set of eyes, and we’ll get to see you climbing heavenly mountains and chasing geckos. Until we meet again. ♥️