Charlie

Yes, it’s been quite of summer.  Full of a great many things.  Unfortunately, writing has not been one of them.

Today, I have a subject that will not bring anything buy joy to one’s heart.  A smile to one’s face.  It’s Charlie.

Charlie Frankl is the dog of Jessica and Matt Frankl, our daughter and son-in-law.  Actually, it’s time to get rid of the, “in-law” moniker, right, Matt?  Can we just go with daughter and son?  I don’t think that will freak out Eric and Nancy, do you?

Jess and Matt rescued Charlie a few years back.  We’re not suite sure how old Charlie is, maybe 6, perhaps 8, closer to 10?  He is little package of energy, an emotional dog who has no problem hiding his emotions…and boy, does he have emotions.

The Frankls have been through quite a lot with Charlie.  The peeing, the chewing, the scratching.  But ever since moving to Havertown, Charlie has seemed to settle down a bit, even though he has not yet warmed to strange dog walkers.  That’s okay, Pop enjoys our daily strolls and chats.  Forget the fact that the residents of Havertown thinks Pop is some kind of lunatic for chatting with the small brown dog who rarely answers.

Two weeks ago today Charlie went into the vet, and quite quickly it was clear something was wrong.  It turned out Charlie was suffering from kidney disease, however, the cause was unknown.  He ended up at HOPE, an animal hospital in Malvern which is the Johns Hopkins of animal hospitals.

Seeing Charlie there for the first few days was heartbreaking.  He was a shell of himself, barely awake and drained of life.  Within three days it appeared his time with all of us was running out.  On that third night I did something I hadn’t done in over 20 years.  I prayed.  To Saint Francis…to a God, any God…to not take this beautiful, wonderful and innocent animal from our lives.  I wasn’t praying for me, but for Charlie, and for Jess and Matt.  He has been like their child.  I called in every favor for every animal I have ever helped, domestic or wild.

The night before Charlie was set to come home to enjoy the remaining time he had left, something happened.  He got just a little bit better.  The next day he got better still.  And soon, despite a setback or two, there was talk of him coming home.  And home he did come, last Saturday.  Not nearly himself at first, but as of recently, showing the moxie that makes him Charlie.  Destroyer of walls.  Killer of crates.  Mr. Anti-medication (although we’ve figured a way past that).

We’re still not sure what the future holds.  But Charlie is back with his parents.  And showing attitude.  More days to hide under the back deck.  More days to steal food off of the table.  More days to harass Murphy in Pop’s backyard.

We’ll take as many days as we’re given.  Welcome home Charles Dean, aka Charlie S. Charles.

The world is definitely a better place, a happier place, with you in it.