Chester June 1995 – March 11, 2011

Our hearts were broken three years ago today when we said goodbye to our faithful little black lab Chester.  While he is gone, he is definitely not forgotten.  This week Chester received a phone call from Jan Stoker – checking to make sure he had received his Red-White-and Blue Medicare card.  She left her toll free number and is looking forward to speaking with him soon.  And today in the mail from Physicians Mutual Insurance he received an important Medicare message stating that “You only have this ONE open enrollment period in your life and it ends soon.”

If Chester could speak I think this is what he would say to me and the Former Boyfriend:

Dear Friend,

It is my time to say goodbye.  My legs are weakening, my sight failing, smells are faint.  I am weary.  My spirit is fading, and I have been called home and away from you.

I wish to be strong again, to roll in gross stuff, to snatch greasy bones, to eat all of the things you hated me to eat, to have my belly scratched for all time, to run through the fields and the woods, to smell the stories of life, and to raise my nose to the wind and see the world all over again.

I am going home. I know I leave you in loneliness and pain.  That is the way of people when they say goodbye.  Dogs are different.  We don’t have regrets or wish that we could alter the story of life.

Although I have been called away, I leave you with the memories of our life together.  When you looked at me and the corners of your mouth turned up, you smelled and looked different.  Lighter, happier.  That was my life, my work.  Nothing more clearly defined my purpose.  When you smiled, I knew why I was here.

I never tired of watching you, of being with you while you lived your life.  I sat by your side, entering into the spirit of the moment.  I supported your life, wherever it went, whatever you felt, whatever you did.  I was your witness, your testament.

I remember my heart jumping out of my chest when you came home and called my name, or grabbed a ball, or took me outside, or fed me.  I hope you know that I loved all of those things – And I thank you.

By now, you must know that there is always a goodbye hovering in the shadow of a dog.  We are never here for long, or for long enough.  We were never meant to share all of your life, only to mark its passages.  We come and we go.  We come when we are needed.  We leave when it is time.  Death is necessary.  It defines life.  I will see you again.  I will watch over you.

I will miss standing beside you, bound together on our walk through life, even as I know that there is a long line of others waiting to take my place and stand with you.

Thank you.  It was nothing but a gift.  And finally, I ask these things of you.

Remember me.

Celebrate me.

Grieve for me.

And then, when you can, let me go, freely and in peace.  When you are ready, do me the great honor of bringing another dog into your life, so you can give and receive this gift again.

Dear Friend Letter by:

Jon Katz

Coming Home