Charlie: A Loyal Guardian's Last Wish

Charlie's Meraki

Meraki is a Greek word, translating roughly to labor of love or leaving a piece of oneself. Through this journey of over a decade together, Charlie has continuously loved me without condition and been there for me without question,

Now, as every good boy does, Charlie has begun the last stretch of his hero’s journey to the rainbow bridge and beyond. While this is no surprise, the sheer amount of pain and anguish felt surrounding this is insurmountable. I am watching my best friend, my soulmate, say goodnight. I knew the day would come, but there is no preparing for it. Ever.

I lost my mother in October. I have felt shattered ever since, all the tiny pieces of who I am scattered to the wind inside my chest. This is the same. Their transition to what lies beyond was so sudden and painful to watch, the feeling is equal. No more or less.

Charlie is the closest creature I have ever had to me. He knows all my secrets, thoughts, memories. I have cried into his fur countless times, and he just lets me lean on him and stays solid. Now, my best friend needs to lean on me and the weight is almost too much to bear.

It is through a fourth day filled with tears that I write this, but I would do anything for him. I hope by reading Charlie’s story and mine, someone or several someones would be kind enough to help me honor him one last time and forevermore.

Why Such a Big Dog?

If I had a dime for every time someone asked me this over the sixteen years Charlie and I have together, this wouldn’t exist. Many people saw Charlie, an over 100 pound dog, and thought a lot of things about him and about me. Many met Charlie when he was young, territorial, and protective of me. There was a reason.

When I decided to get a dog, I was in an overwhelming, dark place in life. I was in a relationship that culminated in trauma, mental, and physical abuse. I was quickly losing who I was to PTSD and the horrific nightmare my life had become. Isolated from friends and cut off from family, living with a guy who wanted me dead. I was terrified. The only idea I could come up with for protection, companionship, and something to ground me was a dog. It was also because the guy tried to tell me I couldn’t.

The search began for the perfect companion, and many nights were spent checking local shelters. I knew I couldn’t handle the energy of a puppy, nor was I in physical shape enough to train one, so I wanted a dog around two years old. A fully developed personality, habits, and ability to learn were all qualities I sought.

Kennel Bear

If you worked in a shelter, one thing they don’t usually allow is for a customer to walk through the kennel. Thankfully, a girl working at a no-kill shelter understood my confusion and desire to meet the dog I would adopt before making any decisions. It was the end of the day, and I had given myself only a half-hour to browse, considering I would be yelled at if I were any later. My ex had no idea I was going to look for a dog.

Several dogs in the kennel did what dogs in cages do, barking and jumping on their gates for attention. So many of them tore out my heart and made me want to adopt them, but then there was…

“Bear.”

A German Shepherd and Husky mix who was sitting in the back of his small, six by four kennel with his head ducked. The chalkboard on his kennel said “aggressive” and had some other unknown marks on it. When I turned toward him, the girl immediately began trying to warn me he was mean, would bite, aggressive, and that I should consider another dog. Choosing not to listen, I watched how he reacted to me.

The dog sat down, slowly rose up and put his big paws on his gate, and laid his head between them. I stepped closer. He slowly looked up at me with the most soulful, bright, golden eyes I had ever seen in my life.

“I’ll be back for him tomorrow.”

Again, the girl tried very hard to talk me out of him, and another the next day did the same. I heard nothing they said.

When I arrived, I had my ex with me to see if he could walk him and I wanted to see the same for myself. They brought him out and the leash went to me. When I got the dog into the walking park, his first order of business was to walk up the legs of my ex and knock him down before standing over him. He then turned those golden eyes to me, as if asking “what now?”

I had never met a dog more adamant about his position as my protector. He didn’t seem to like my ex, which was fine. Neither did I.

It wasn’t until throwing out a list of names that I realized something. His ears didn’t quite stand straight up, he has a gorgeous coloration, he’s scrappy, and he has his own way of doing things.

That is how he got his name.

Charlie B. Barkin

All Dogs Go to Heaven was a formative movie in my childhood, making me appreciate and love animals and their journey far more than I did prior. Not only did the dog I had spent an entire two weeks’ worth of pay on look like Charlie, he acted heroic like him as well. I knew if he had the chance to return from heaven with a magical collar, he would.

So, Charlie B. Barkin got his name, an engraved nametag, a harness, and a leash. When I picked him up to take him home, I had a bed for him in the backseat. He filled up the entirety of the back of my 2007 Chevrolet Aveo and moved the car when he breathed.

3 Days

The workers told me when he came in that Charlie had experienced abuse and he was very reactive. This did not change just because I took him home. He spent all his time pacing, looking around, checking on me, watching my ex, and never slept. You could barely touch his paw and he would jerk it back and snap at you.

For three days, I watched Charlie suffer his anxiety. For three days, he snapped at me whenever I got close, and growled whenever I picked things up near him.

On the third day, he was on his bed but wide awake. If you’ve never seen a dog that lacks proper sleep, they look very much like Droopy. Their bottom lids sag until you see pink, and their eyes grow bloodshot. I knew if he didn’t sleep soon, he would suffer worse than insomnia. So, I decided that since I had survived my own illnesses and the world this long, I would not let him intimidate me.

When I approached him where he lay, he was immediate to begin growling and opening his mouth. I didn’t stop. As he snarled at me, I pulled his head into my lap and began to pet him with confidence. Through his snarls, I began to sing. I hadn’t sang in years. My ex had stolen my voice, but here it was for Charlie.

Those beautiful golden eyes locked with mine, his little ears rose, and he listened.

Then, what I considered a miracle and our turning point together, he let his eyes drift closed and he fell asleep in my lap.

From that moment forward, Charlie trusted me. He also became vigilant about being with me. I didn’t mind, I would load him up in the car and take him everywhere I went. I would keep him with me to the point I didn’t worry if I left him in the car with the AC on and my driver’s window cracked. No one would mess with the car with him in it, and I knew he was territorial. He wouldn’t allow anyone in anyway.

After he trusted me, I took him to visit my parents for the first time. My Mama was the one to see him in the backseat with his ears up. Thinking he was my ex with a hat on (she couldn’t see him that well), she told me to tell him to come in.

I laughed nervously, “Mama, that’s not [him]… That’s my dog.”

I walked back to the car without saying anything else as she looked at me, befuddled. Unlocking the door and opening it, Charlie stepped out and followed me back toward my mother.

“Oh, hell no!”

The resounding echo of my Texan southern belle mother’s disdain for him rang in my ears, but she wasn’t the one who had to love him, was she? No. I was.

It wasn’t until she sat down on her back deck and Charlie mostly ignored her until he realized she didn’t like him to lick her that she warmed up. Mama hated when animals licked her and he was no exception. When she’d scream and pull her hand away, Charlie thought it was a game. He didn’t use his tongue every time. Sometimes he’d just nudge her with his nose to get the reaction before trotting on like a kid. Mama loved him quicker than I thought she would, and I can still hear her inflection of “hey Charrr-laaaaayyy!”

Save Me!

There are always times in life when we do not grasp the lesson in the things that happen around us, or we ignore it. Sometimes, we ignore things we shouldn’t until they grow dangerous.

A night would come when I couldn’t speak to my ex about anything without sparking his disdain and anger. This culminated in a series of events that led to his hand around my throat, crushing my windpipe with no sign of stopping.

I had been training Charlie to respond with rapt attention to the sound of a snap or a stomp because I knew I may not always have the chance to call his name.

I could barely bring my fingers together when my arm fell limp at my side. I don’t know how he heard the ghost of a snap, as Charlie was sleeping. He was snoring.

Yet, when my fingers came together and made whatever sound he heard, Charlie’s ears went up. His head rose as darkness started to flood into the edges of my vision. I don’t remember what happened next, but I’m piecing it together by the aftermath.

Charlie clawed up my ex’s back, grabbed a mouthful of his hair, then dropped his weight. It ripped my ex off me, and I collapsed. I couldn’t move, but through my hair, I could see Charlie standing in front of me, posturing as though he were about to attack my ex. The man got smart and decided to leave for the time being.

Once he was gone long enough and I was beginning to move again, Charlie turned around and pressed himself into me. It was like a hug without wrapping his arms around me. It took my reassuring him I’m okay and sitting up to pet him before he would leave my side.

Charlie is the only reason I’m alive today.

Bad Company

Despite being aware that I should do things differently, I spent my twenties in a flurry of bad relationships. The only constant in my life was Charlie, and I was alright with that.

So came the time where I married a second man who changed while the ink on the marriage certificate was still wet. He became just like the rest, manipulative, narcissistic, and unfaithful. I knew how and who he was very quickly and so did Charlie, but I didn’t listen. Charlie bit him when he first met him. Hard.

Charlie would go on to bite that boy three more times for trying to approach me aggressively or acting erratic close to me. My ex couldn’t see why, no matter how I tried to explain and move forward. I thought this was all I deserved, that no better existed, and I convinced myself to just stay until it ended me.

Leaving and divorcing him was the best decision of my entire life. I saw Charlie happier, and I felt happier, too.

Perfect Guardian

During my second marriage, my mental health reached a breaking point. It was important that I get help or I would have done something I would regret. My Mama looked at me and told me she didn’t recognize me anymore, and that was enough. I sought therapy and found out about several diagnoses I suspected, but had never pursued with anyone. PTSD, BPD, bipolar… All diagnosed in time for my marriage to reach the final chapter.

My ex tried to make me record private therapy sessions, or tell him what was said, which I refused. This was when he lost his composure on me. He grew unsatisfied with everything I attempted from cleaning, cooking, washing clothes, it didn’t matter. He was not content and he made sure I knew it. He also vilified me to what was once our church to a misogynistic pastor. This same pastor came to the house to “talk” and ended up with Charlie between us for making every marital issue my fault instead of my ex’s.

Closing that chapter of my life was not easy, and my mental health was suffering. This was the time I chose to train Charlie in a mixed way. He was trained as a guard dog, but now he was being trained as a service animal. Perfectly trained to behave with me, Charlie was stellar in learning techniques such as Deep Pressure Therapy (DPT). He even got himself a letter from my doctor stating his necessity in my life and presence wherever I may go.

Every day was a new break in me, chiseling away at everything I felt and all I was. Charlie would spend his time cuddled up to me, or somehow touching me, even if it was just his foot. He was showing me he was there for me.

Soulmates

It is my belief that we meet many soulmates in our time. Be that a friend, a colleague, an animal, anything. We meet our soulmates.

We know they are by the way they act toward and with us. By their protective nature, and their gentle souls. We know that when they love us, they love us without condition and without expectation. We know that they will always love us the same, no matter if our day makes us a monster.

A dog is no different.

The way I know he is my soulmate is how he looks at me. (You can see it in one of the pictures in his gallery.) He adores me and all I do, even now.

Last Stand

My bad relationships did not end with the end of my marriage. I had to go for one more, investing my time in someone who did not deserve it. No matter what, Charlie was always there. He nipped fingers, barked, growled, he was omnipresent around me. Then, one day, I was talking to a person that meant the world to me, and I heard several honks outside and screeching brakes.

Oh, God.

Running outside when your body is in a stasis of pain happens when you have a dump of adrenaline. I was terrified, and I bolted down the driveway toward the road to see Charlie. He turned his head and looked at me, but he looked confused, as though he didn’t know how he had gotten there.

This was the beginning of cognitive decline. I just didn’t know it yet.

Eight years ago, I was informed that Charlie had a grapefruit-sized splenic tumor. Anyone who knows anything about those knows they are a ticking time bomb and knows that operating on them may cause more issues. Charlie already had problems with anesthesia, I couldn’t put him through that on a 30/70 chance that it would cure the problem! I refused.

I sat down and talked to Charlie… and while that seems silly to some, the boy understands every word I say. I asked him if he was ready to go and without prompting, he shook his head. I asked him to tell me if he was and I told him I would make him as comfortable as I possibly could. We walked forward in life and didn’t stop.

2 Years

There was no warning before the cataracts came, nor a warning before the salt and pepper showed up on his muzzle. There was no warning when he developed tiny tumors all over his skin, and one large protrusion on his chest. There was nothing to prepare me for everything being inoperable, nor to prepare me to watch my best friend begin his last walk.

Ben and I got together three years ago now, and Charlie approved of him from the first time they met. He did not growl, snarl, nip, bite, or act upset that Ben was near me. He also seemed to like him more than I’d ever seen him like another. Sure, people had given him scraps in the past to win favor, but Ben did nothing.

Two years would pass and we would watch Charlie begin to decline. He was slower, his legs were weaker, and he was more reactive to other people. To us, he was fine and sweet, but anyone else (including our eldest) would hear the quietest old boy growls.

We lived in two horrific living situations. One with a hoarder and the other with a lying addict. Both were people we thought could be trusted, but we were wrong. Both times, Charlie had a difficult time walking around. He couldn’t navigate his large self around a lot of the magazines everywhere, and neither could we. All of us suffered. The second place had nothing but vinyl floors, and Charlie’s feet would slide like he was ice skating. This led to him growing more sedentary, preferring to stay on his warm bed than try to walk around. Often, we would take him places just to get away from there, but it was obvious that his hips were growing weaker.

We found ourselves oddly thankful to be out of the latter situation, to the point that homelessness didn’t even phase us. Incredible people helped us stay afloat long enough to rest and begin swimming to the shore. Not only did they donate money, but donated blankets, food, and items for Charlie. We couldn’t have survived without them, and going into a shelter while Charlie did the same was not happening. Thanks to everyone, we were able to keep our little family together.

Rainbow Bridge

The decline in Charlie happened rapidly. Four days have now passed where he has refused almost all food, and today, he is having a difficult time finding the will to drink water. He has lost muscle mass and weight, to the point I can pick him up easily. He only weighs about 50 pounds now. He is incontinent, lying on a thick pad for a bed, and underpads beneath him as well as a belly wrap. He is comfortable, sleeping, and covered up in clothes that smell like us because he’s cold. My intention is to take him outdoors today, as it is very difficult for him to walk. I want him to have a little time outside in the fresh air, even if he can’t run around anymore.

I know what all those signs mean.

My baby is sniffing his path to the rainbow bridge.

I told him yesterday, “I’ll walk with you to the bridge like I always promised. You’re safe, you’ll never be alone. Mama will have to take the leash from there, so please don’t pull her too hard. Your daddy [Ben] will keep me safe.”

I have a small teddy bear with my mother’s final heartbeats recorded in it. I also have a travel pillow of hers she once slept with. I gave Charlie the pillow, as Mama would have yelled at me if I hadn’t. She would have wanted him to be comfortable. I then sat down on his mat with him and showed him the teddy bear. He sniffed it, smelling my mother’s perfume I sprayed on it. Then, I played the recording.

If ever I thought a dog understood, it was now. Charlie’s ears went down the tiniest bit and he leaned his head against my leg. He hugged me.

I watch every moment for anything to happen to him, knowing that the worst may be yet to come. Every cry, I am at his side. Every time he is awake, I am talking to him. His eyes are still bright when open, but he’s very weak. I know it is only a matter of time once food is no longer a factor and water becomes difficult. Yet, I also would rather be nowhere else.

Saying Goodnight

I have faced two of the hardest things I have ever faced in my life in the past three months. While I will make it through this only because I must, it is very important to me to honor my best friend the best way I am able.

Researching different alternatives to cremation and burial, I made a decision many may find strange. I am choosing to have his ceremonial parts returned to me. Ears, heart, bones, and fur after a sanitizing process. Ceremonial parts are similar to ashes, holding high the idea of a purposeful, meaningful passing. I promised him the day I got him I would carry him with me all my life and everywhere I went. I intend to honor my promise. He may end up in a shadow box, where I can see him always, or in a cabinet where he will be safe. Regardless, he will be honored and given a place of permanence in my life.

This is the most pain I have ever felt as I lose a companion and lost a shieldmaiden in less than a year. The hardship these two losses wrought in everyone’s life involved is immense, and the costs are high.

I don’t know how to carry the weight I currently feel, nor if I can handle the pain in my chest without my companion with me. It isn’t as easy as just burying him in the backyard. I feel that would disrespect all the time and effort he put into me. I wish to honor him now, and I need your help.

The entire process costs $1,000. My checks would not cover that, even if I used the whole thing. Our housing, food, and resources would be gone if I chose to pay it out of my own income or if my caregiver gave me his. It’s simply too much. The cost was unforeseen, the connection with Charlie was unforeseen, and the need to ask for help was not something I wanted to do.

Now, I am not just asking, but begging anyone who reads this – Please, help me honor my best friend and soulmate. Help me to give him a new life in which he has purpose, and reminds me to be mindful of every moment. Please help him cross the rainbow bridge without thinking his mama will be scared and alone.

Anything received over goal will be donated to a charity of choice or kept in savings to buy a home with a big backyard Charlie would love.