Charlie

The smartest dog I have ever known was Charlie. He understood more than just commands; he understood conversations whether in English or Filipino. More than that, he understood emotion. In my darkest moments, he would cry alongside me, then gently lick my face and nuzzle close, a silent promise to make everything better.

For 13 wonderful years, he was a part of our family. He even had beautiful puppies with Athena. He was a fighter, surviving two operations as if powered by the simple fact that he knew he was loved.

Charlie was a Japanese Spitz, but in his heart, he was all Filipino. He'd point with his mouth, "oberder," and always knew where to look when we pointed to something. He was a creature of comfort and closeness, a constant presence at our feet, his back resting against our legs when we were seated. When he was on the bed, he’d lie with his back against mine, a comforting, silent weight. He would even rest on my chest during thunderstorms. I never knew if he was trying to protect me or if he just felt safest in my arms, but either way, his love was an undeniable force.

Last night, we took him to Dumangan for a final dinner and a breath of fresh air. The moment was a bittersweet one, a farewell wrapped in a memory of love. But true love requires acceptance. Watching him suffer was a pain of its own, and we knew the kindest thing we could do was to let him go. With heavy hearts, we said goodbye to our sweet Charlie, giving him the peace he deserved.

Of all the heartbreaks I have known, nothing compares to the quiet sorrow of losing a pet as gentle and loving as Charlie.