Dearest Chester,
Losing you is most certainly like closing the book after
reading the final chapter. That book spanned the story of a brown Labrador Retriever who saw and experienced a lot over 12 years.
The memory I tell of you most often is when Papas and I
first identified that we were going to get a Lab. We were getting emails from
the breeder with pictures of the litter of brown chocolate muffins, one of whom would be
ours. I pointed you out immediately. “The one with the red collar-he is always
standing alone, with a forlorn look on his face. He is always standing away
from the others. I bet that one is ours.” When we went to pick you up, my Mamas
intuition was correct. Your brother, the spunky one in the orange collar, had
already been chosen and you, sad and crying by the fence in the red collar, was
ours. “This one is special. He needs a little extra TLC,” the breeder said
about you as she held you in her arms. You clung to me in the backseat of the
car that day, and when you were greeted by your new neighbors you threw up on
the grass. In those early days, the
evenings were filled with a sad song, “Woo woo woo “ as Papas and I resisted
getting up and carrying you into bed to comfort you. Yes, you were special and
I hope we gave you the TLC you needed.
Such was how the story of Chester began. You grew into a
clumsy teenager with long ears and paws the size of baseball mitts. You were
feisty and easily excited, but you also had that vulnerable side which never
went away as you grew older and more mature. You would sleep with me, Papas and
Stan sometimes and we would revel in how the four of us could fit on a queen-sized
bed. You loved Chatfield especially, but you also loved walks in the
neighborhood when you would see the neighbors who loved you so-TJ with his big
hello and belly rub, Susan with the treats she carried in her pocket. You loved
treats. And rawhide. And people food.
After Papas died I know I struggled with taking care of you
and Stanley while going through my grief. But then you two became my special
buddies and we did a lot together, most notably selling the only house you ever knew and moving 5 hours
away from all you loved and that was familiar. You handled it all like a trooper, and I
don’t know exactly how I will fill my days if it isn’t including taking care of you.
You chased balls, you swam, you hiked, you foraged through a
family’s campsite, you crashed a backyard BBQ and ate pizza, you came with us
to parties and maybe had a beer or two (by accident), you greeted everyone who
came to the door like they were the only people on earth, you snuggled up in
bed when I needed a friend and were always there for me when I cried. I will
miss that gray muzzle inquiring into my face about my mood and whether you would be
given a treat or a chew. I will miss buying dog food for you, figuring out which rawhide treats you would enjoy, and taking you for walks, no matter how short they recently became.
Chester, you were truly one of a kind, almost like a little
person. I swear you understood English.
I hope our last few minutes together soothed your soul and I
know, just know deep down in my heart, that you are romping with Stanley by a
rainbow and that you and Papas will be strolling through green meadows and up
mountains together very soon.
I will miss you, Ches.
Love, Mamas
