RIP, Chief

It’s a sad time over here at Martta’s World. I found out last week that my beloved, God dog, Chief, had to be put down due to heart failure.

No one saw this coming. I spoke to my brother in Oregon about a month ago, told him how much we were looking forward to coming out to visit in August and especially to see Chiefy. My boyfriend, Tom, has never met Chief but based on all of my tales and descriptions, was eager to do so. And then this.

My brother said he noticed that something was up about two weeks ago. Chief seemed particularly lethargic on his walks. He no longer looked forward to jaunts in the park. At first, my brother chalked it up to the heat wave they've been having out west. But it was a lot more serious than that and there was nothing anyone could do.

Of course, animals can't tell you "where it hurts" and by the time we find out they are sick, it is often too late.

He was 8. Even by Lab standards, that’s not very old. Middle-aged maybe (56 in people years) but not a true senior citizen.

Anyway, no matter how old he was, he was a special dog. Beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, playful. Rare to find all these characteristics in a person, let alone a dog.

I remember one time I was helping my sister-in-law in the garden. There was this particularly stubborn root from a small, dead tree that, try as we might, could not pull out of the ground. Chief saw that we were struggling, came over to help dig, and it came out in no time.

The last time I saw Chief, he was just 2, a mere pup. He thought that his soggy rope toy was the most wonderful thing in the world and he just had to share it with anyone who walked through the door. We were all glad when the chewing stage was over, however.

Rest in peace, Chiefster. You will be missed.