They either look really tiny or their glasses look really big. I can't tell which. Even the boys liked their food, although Evan's dinner consisted mostly of fried won tons and Grandma T and Papa's complimentary dessert. It was a great way to celebrate two people who are loved by so many--but especially by me.
On Monday, however, my parents and Matt had to deal with something heartbreaking that we'd all seen coming but didn't want to really quite face. They had to put their beloved dog Chance, whom they cared for for over 15 years, to sleep. I know they are still reeling from his loss and will be for some time. As he became older and more infirm, they were more than just his "owners," they were his loving caretakers, who fed him peanut butter (his favorite, and mine, too) whenever he wished, took him outside to do his "business" at all hours of the day or night, and even made a comfy doggie apartment for him in the terraced level of their home when he was no longer strong enough to walk up and down the stairs to get to the backyard.
That is love, pure and simple. And I know, absolutely positively know, that Chance knew he was loved every day with my parents and Matt. And, in return, he was the perfect companion to them over the years.
Chance had a rocky start in this world. The sad story goes that he was rescued off the street in a bad neighborhood, where he was being used as "bait" for fighting dogs, to make them aggressive. How a person could be so cruel to an animal is beyond me, beyond most of us. So, when he landed at my parents' house during my college years, he was more than skittish. He was downright terrified of just about anyone who wasn't a part of his circle during those first weeks. Fortunately, Brendan and I were immediately in his circle, and Chance was always good with children. Nathan and Evan always knew him as a lovable hunk of fur who would do anything to chase a tennis ball. Or ten. As the years went on, Chance eventually came to accept other people, though it did take a very long time. But for the most part, that never mattered, because he was perfectly content in his warm and loving home with my mom, dad and Matt.
Chance had almost as many stuffed animals as my kids do. It was commonplace to find him curled up with a couple of his "babies" in his nice comfy bed. Sometimes he "loved" them a little too much, but my parents became handy with a needle and thread, often sewing up his toys with comical results.
I don't know if Chance knew he was a dog, but he certainly had no idea about his size or body shape. His constantly-wagging tail would knock things over and bang into walls all over the house. And if Chance wanted to sit, he wanted to sit, even if it was where you were sitting. Numerous times, he'd plop himself down into a sitting position on my lap, legs askew, not a care in the world.
Chance was treated to all sorts of special comforts and joys: the fluffy toys, the many walks in the mountains with my dad, the disturbingly-crunchy pig ears as special treats, the tennis balls, the empty peanut butter jars to lick clean, the sprinkling of rice and cheese on his kibble dinner, and the perfectly plump bed that cradled his sleepy head both day and night. After what he endured as a puppy, the spoiling he got at my parents' house was a well-deserved.
Chance could not have had a more perfect home for his long life of 15 years. And I know my parents will say that they could not have had a more perfect dog, a more perfect companion. And even though it's so sad to see him go, I think his sweet presence will always be part of their home. The "inner circle" will always remember him.
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