I will never forget the day I jumped into my bright yellow VW GTI VR6 and sped west to an adorable victorian in the countryside. It was pale, creamy yellow and had one of those fairytale turrets. I remember the waist high grass swaying in the late August breeze. A little blond haired girl was on the porch.
As I got out of the car, two giant Boxers came prancing up to me and behind them, a sweet little fawn puppy, wearing long white gloves and a black mask. They mouthed my hands and as soon as I saw the little one, I knew he would be mine. My Charlie. Charleston the Puck of Cheswick.
That little puppy is now 11 years old. In the past couple of months, I've seen him steadily go down hill. At first he just tripped a little on our walks. Lately, he's had more trouble. Almost falling down when he does a body shake, hindquarter weakness and not being able to balance when he goes to the bathroom.
I took him to the vet in August when I began to be concerned and everything sounded normal...lungs and heart okay. But mine aren't. My heart is breaking over my sweet boy. I bought him a heating pad and give him Bufferin, but still. I wonder if he is in any pain. I just don't know how I will handle that moment when it comes.
The pugs just can't compare to The Chidler. I hate imagining my life without him. When he is gone, a huge chunk of my life is gone. He is how I have got on, kept going. He is my best friend where there are none. I wonder if I will come downstairs one morning and find him gone, or worse, unable to move. How do I do it? How do I carry on? My sweet little puppy boy, I am not ready to say goodbye.
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