Layla's Dark and Foreboding Weblog

Yesterday, my sweet pup Chester died.

I brought Chester home from the North Shore Animal League in April of 1994, as a little tiny runt. He grew into a huge dog, over 80 lbs., full of energy and unparalleled love. We had such a bond. Even after I left home, and Chester stayed with my mom, he was always my guy. When I'd come for a visit, he would cry and leap and go bonkers at the mere thought of hanging out with me. When my brother Adam and I would play patty cake, Chester would attack him for threatening me. When I would lie down to bed, or to read, Chester would snarl and attack anyone who came in my room, including the other dogs and cats. He was the eternal protector.

I saw Chester this past Christmas when I went to visit my mom in San Diego. Though he seemed healthy, I just had a feeling that this would be the last time I saw him. He would roll onto his back for me to pet his underbelly, once a jet black, now mostly grey. He would put his paw on my arm while I gave him those scratches that he lived for. I just knew. At 12 years old, he had already outlived most dogs his size. But he never let himself be burden. My mom told me that right up until the end, he would make the shaky, now perilous walk down the stairs and outside to go to the bathroom, not wanting to compromise his dignity by going in the house.

The vet came yesterday to my mothers house and ended his suffering. My poor boy. Now chasing balls and sniffing asses in that dog park in the sky.

Goodbye, Chester. You were a great pal.