His name was Freckles. A Cavalier King Charles, the dog of kings. A calm demeanor, but would run figure 8's around the house when a youngster. Always underfoot, looking for any piece of dropped food. He loved vegetables, was fed pumpkin by my daughter so he would get his heart meds. He was 9 years and three weeks old and the vet said he could do nothing more for him. He could not climb the stairs. Fluid filled his lungs, his gums were purple. His heart could not keep him in a happy state. So he was "put down", "put to sleep". We cannot, but perhaps we do do this for humans. It is, was the humane thing.
My wife cried, my daughter cried, my grandsons cried and I cried. As it turned out, Freckles' last meal was a morsel of pecan pie crust. I laid it at his feet, he picked it up, moved a couple of feet, laid down with it and made a gentle meal of it.
When we got Freckles, he had to be named. A great search resulted in numerous possibilities, but no name. And then we visited my son's house, small kids fawning over this special dog. And there it was, actually there they were, Hayley's face next to Freckles or Hayley's beautiful freckled face next to a dog's freckled face. A name was born. Freckles.
A companion to us all. Jack, age 8, was laying down with Freckles a few days ago, kissing him and looking deep into his eyes. My wife said "Jack why are you doing that?" Jack said "I know he's not going to be with us much longer" It was Jack that cried the most.
The loss of a pet, a dog reminds us of our own mortality and the mortality of those we love. It reminds us of the special unconditional love that a dog brings. And in this case the unconditional love of not "man's best friend, but a "family's best friend". Rest in Peace, Freckles
