RIP, Charlie. He provided me with my kossack handle (Miniaussiefan).
When I adopted Charlie, a miniature Australian shepherd from the Greenville (SC) Humane Society about 14 years ago, he had been given the name "Happy." He certainly was that, but we wanted to rename him. So he remained happy but became Charlie and was with us for a good 15+ years, until yesterday morning. As one of Mary Oliver’s poems notes, "A dog lives fifteen years, if you’re lucky." We were lucky.
On the ride home from the humane society all those years ago, “Happy” sat on the front passenger seat and then snuggled over to rest his head on my right thigh, a completely endearing act. I told him I chose him because he was the only one (true!) of all the dogs in the kennel area that had sat calmly and quietly while I strolled through, hoping to find a new friend. Suddenly there he was, sitting and waiting as if he had known I would come for him.
After I got him home, we decided that we couldn’t picture ourselves calling out “Happy! Happy!” to get his attention, so we studied him a bit, looked him over, and decided: Charlie. He was a Charlie. We enjoyed his company — and that of his later adopted sibling, a shih-tzu, whom we named Ozzie — for the next 14 years. He was smart — he took to obedience training quickly and was a star pupil in his class (so the trainer told us, and we saw no reason to doubt her). He invented a game we called stair ball in which I’d toss his squeaky ball upstairs, and he’d dash up, retrieve the ball in his mouth, and drop it on a lower step so that it would bounce down to me. Or sometimes he would race back down just to wait for the next upward throw. He and Ozzie enjoyed chasing each other through the house, Ozzie often reversing direction so they’d end up in a face-off, panting but ready to go again.
Around the time we were settling in with our new family member, my late brother, Kossack Perro Amarillo, persuaded me to join dkos. I couldn’t think of a screen name to use until suddenly it came to me: I was smitten with Charlie, I’d become a big fan of his kind, so Miniaussiefan I became.
Charlie enjoyed good health and good times, but as with all of us, life catches up and throws a few curves. He developed a problem with collapsing trachea about three years ago, resulting in a strong whooping-type cough which was distressing to us all. Fortunately, new medication helped, the cough disappeared, and we were grateful that he was more comfortable in his senior years. But recently he began to show signs of illness and increased weakness, so we knew our time with him was growing short.
About 2 a.m. Tuesday, Charlie began having serious seizures. My husband wrapped him in a thick towel for comfort, and then came and woke me so I could come downstairs and sit with him. Between then and about 8:00 when I could contact the vet, we could only try to keep him as comfortable as possible. My husband finally went to bed about 3 or 4, and I stayed up, petting Charlie and stroking his ears, while I spoke quietly to him. Of course he couldn’t hear me because he had become deaf in the past year, but it helped me.
About 8:30 we prepared the car to take him for his last ride. Arriving at the vet’s for our 9:15 appointment, we then had to wait in our car for about 45 minutes before we were taken inside by a vet tech to a room prepared for us. The vet and she gently did the necessary work; we stayed with Charlie throughout.
Afterward, we went back home without our beloved mini-Aussie, knowing that we had done the best thing for him.
He was the best dog. They are all the best dog.
And I will always be a Miniaussiefan.
