[Dailydrool] Young Charlie Basset Now Belongs to the Ages

[Elizabeth]

Young Charlie Basset now belongs to the ages.


When I woke up a week ago today, I did not know young Charlie would be gone before noon. Death is like that. Even when you know to expect it, it still tears in from out of nowhere and stabs you in the heart.

 

Frantic thrashing about on the bed shook me awake that morning. I thought Charlie was having a seizure. Instead, he was trying desperately to get to his feet so he could get off the bed before he finished emptying a full bladder on it. He had never had an accident on the bed before. When we got back in from the yard, he laid down on the dining room floor and looked . . . different. He refused the Zukes rabbit treats he had been wild with desire for all week. He had also refused his bedtime cookies the night before; they were still on the bed, untouched, in the morning. It felt as if he had just turned a corner and was heading in a direction that was not going to lead to anyplace would give him more good days.

 

After sitting on the floor with him for a while and consulting with Ken on the phone, I took Charlie to the vet to be evaluated. As I talked with her, I realized it had been a couple of weeks since Charlie, who had always been my joyful boy, had given the appearance of finding much joy in life. His days had been reduced to mostly sleeping and searching the house for me when I got up to go to another room, even for just a minute. His hearing was almost gone, his eyesight could not have been much better, his appetite for regular meals required coaxing, and a faint outline of the tumor had recently become visible in his abdominal area.

 

I finally decided—based on his subdued, withdrawn, and almost detached demeanor, the way in which his essence seemed to be disappearing, and the reality that the tumor on his spleen was not going to stop growing until it detonated, causing massive internal hemorrhaging—it was time to let him go. The way the morning had begun seemed like an alarm bell, warning me that the ticking time bomb inside Charlie was close to going off. I wanted to spare him the pain and fear of that. As I learned at the expense of a pet rat, sometimes it is better to leave a couple of days too soon than to wait until it is too late. His death was swift and peaceful.

 

Of course I am second guessing myself on this and counting my regrets. I regret that I was not more generous with my pizza, his favorite food, on what turned out to be his last night. I regret we did not go for more walks in the last month, though I understand my concern was that he would have a medical emergency when we were blocks from home and the car. I deeply regret that I made Charlie get his nails trimmed the day before he died. If I had known he was going to die the next day, I never would have put him through that trauma.

 

But I am also aware of those occasions when I used wisely the gift of time we had been given. I am grateful I set aside my work last month to pick him up when he asked me to and held him on my lap for what turned out to be the last time, resting my head on his while he slept with his head on my shoulder like the sweetest toddler I will ever have. After that, the tumor grew too large for him to be able to sit on my lap comfortably again. I am grateful for deciding not to jump out of bed and immediately get the day started the morning before he died but lingered to enjoy a snuggle with him instead. He had unusually soft fur for a hound and loved being held.

 

Our home and lives are disconsolately empty and still without Charlie. (My mother’s dog, The Wee One, is absolutely no comfort at all. She isn’t Charlie, and she’s definitely no hound.) I do not know how long I will be bereft without him, but that feeling probably is not going to change any day soon.

 

Our happy hound leaves behind toilet paper tubes he had yet to shred, an unfinished excavation project in the backyard, his half of the desk he shared with Elizabeth, the blue knit hat he and Ken Locke argued over, an enviable collection of pink purses, and many, many friends, met and unmet, who will miss him. Especially Ken and I.

 

Young Charlie was a good friend, cheerful company, and a bright, joyful light in our lives. There will only ever be one Charlie Basset, and we were the ones lucky enough to have him be ours for almost fourteen years. He was so very loved.

 

Charlie Basset, December 11, 2005 to July 30, 2020

 

Thank you Belly Rubs Basset Hound Rescue for entrusting him to us.

 

Elizabeth
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