Saying Goodbye to the Best Dog Ever

 

On November 22, the day before Thanksgiving, my wife and I made the terribly difficult decision that it was time to put our eleven-year-old Newfoundland, Chester to sleep.  I have to admit the last three or four years have been hard.  He was a medically challenging dog, but we provided the best vet care we could afford.  It was a lot of hard work at times--not to mention expense--but it was all worth it, of course.  Still, when that time came on the 22nd, I wasn't expecting such a deep level of grief for a...dog.  I thought his years of illness would subdue the sadness somewhat, make the good times seem more distant; I was dead wrong.  For the first few days after, I kept thinking I saw him in the house out of the corner of my eye, or I would forget and watch for him at night for a moment as I was navigating the dark bedroom.

Chester was a gentle giant of a dog.  He welcomed everyone warmly and didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body---unless one of his people was in potential danger.  When hikers would catch sight of him, they would frequently joke he looked like a bear.  On one particular hike where the trail wasn't particularly good, I remember he seemed to rotate somewhat from the front of our little group to the back, keeping a watch on everyone. When he was a puppy he didn’t care for playing fetch, but he did enjoy soccer.  He was incredibly loving towards all of us and would also instantly adapt his behavior (particularly when younger) to people with special needs.  

I’m grateful he survived long enough to meet our grandson James.  The baby really enjoyed meeting him.  He was quite the dog, and he is sorely missed by all of us.  

As I've written elsewhere, I'm a firm believer that good pets will be with believers in heaven.  I believe we'll see him again someday, and I am thankful for that.