Charlie

I grew up in a rural area of Southeast Texas, which means I got to spend the majority of my time outdoors exploring acres upon acres of piney woods, streams, fields and lakes... well, you get the picture.

My partner in all of these wondrous adventures was my ever-present sidekick Charlie. Charlie was just an average size plain brown dog, nothing special at all about him except that he was my best friend in the whole world. When he was a puppy he was so tiny that he could fit in my hands when I cupped them together.

Mom and Dad had a strict rule that no pets were allowed in the house but they always seemed to be preoccupied with something else as I was sneaking Charlie into my room. He would nip at my toes as I wiggled them under the covers for a few minutes, then he'd circle a few times and settle in so that he could sleep at the foot of the bed. I was eight years old.

One evening we were walking along a dirt road on our way home from dove hunting at a neighbors' field. Charlie had th is funny habit, he liked to run from side to side in the road and sniff everything in sight, then hike a leg on it.

Well, a truck came around a blind corner suddenly and Charlie didn't manage to get out of the way in time. One of the truck tires caught his back leg and it was terribly broken. The truck never stopped, they did however care enough to toss an empty beer bottle out the window spilling broken glass across the road.
I carried Charlie the rest of the way home. I don't think I'll ever forget the amount of pain and fear that was in those big brown eyes... all I could do was talk softly to him and tell him we'd be home soon. Everything will be all right.

When I asked my Dad if we could take Charlie to the vet he explained that we just didn't have the money to take him and that the best thing for him was to put him out of his misery. I was heartbroken; I couldn't stand the thought of putting him down.
Dad must have seen how much I loved that ol' mutt so he said we might try to set the leg in a splint and see how things turn out.

We did the best that we could but from that day on Charlie never r egained the full use of his back left leg; he developed this funny little hop-skip. That was ok though, we just walked a little slower. It didn't impair his leg hiking abilities!
The adventures continued. I was twelve years old.

As time rolled on it seemed like I kind of lost interest in those long hikes and fishing holes 'n such and started spending more time with my buddies talking sports, hotrod cars and girls... of course. On a good day Charlie would get a good rub between the ears then I'd be off for the movies and hanging' out at the pizza place scopin' the babes.

One night when I got home Mom came to me and said Dad had just gotten back from the vet with Charlie and was making him comfortable out in the barn. She said it wasn't good news. Dad had thrown some hay for Charlie and set out some water and food. Dad said he noticed him coughing blood that evening and he took him to the vet.
Charlie had heartworms and there was nothing that could be done for him.