Tonight, after 14.5 years, we had to say goodbye to our lovely and very old dog, Charlotte. It was hard enough for me to do - Don and I got Charlotte from an animal shelter when I was a youthful, 24-year-old law student -- so she has been with me for most of my adult life. Watching the girls confront the reality of Charlotte's death is very difficult, though - much harder than dealing with my own feelings. She has been a fixture in their lives from the moment that each of them came home from the hospital. Charlotte - particularly after Jane's arrival - displayed a consistent and almost incomprehensible tolerance for being climbed on, pulled around, and (on occasion) dressed up in doll clothes.
The night before Charlotte died, she was up every hour or two. I checked on her each time to see if she needed water or wanted to go out, but she didn't. Instead, she went from room to room, climbed into bed with each of us, slept lightly for an hour or two, and then climbed down and went on to the next bedroom. At one point I found her on Claire's bed, standing over Claire's sleeping form and just staring intently at Claire's face. Then she settled down, put her head on Claire's shoulder, and rested for another hour. By the time morning came, she had spent time curled up next to each member of our family.
It's hard to put into words how much she will be missed.
