In Memory of Chester
1993-2006

In celebration of Chester’s life we would like to remember all the reasons we loved him, and love his memory still:

His tail signaled great things…grandmother’s cooking, hidden treats in a raincoat, four-legged visitors, promises of walks in the park, the discovery of chicken bones dropped by crows, contentment with his quiet position on the bed wedged between us, and the anticipation of a trip in the car. He wagged his tail from side to side and up and down and in a special move, around in a circle like a helicopter. We trimmed his tail at the Dog Wash and played with it despite his growling protestations. On the end of his black tail, four white hairs beckoned us on the trail. It was his flag and our comfort.

His sounds sent messages…the impatient moan for his morning walk; a gentle “woof”, just once, to be let in; the excited high-pitched squeal at the discovery of a raccoon in the cherry tree; the slurping lap of water; the jingle of his collar against an ice cream bowl; the stomping of his back legs when begging for a bagel or some toast; the extended yowl when dinner was prepared and delivered; the ha-rumph when he laid down; the huff of air as he cleared his nostrils to better smell the fresh air, his head stretched out the back of the car window; the gratification-pant of a day well-spent with his family; his yips and hoots while he dreamt; the occasional snap and snarl when irritated; and the smacking of his lips as he fell asleep. Our silence will echo with the memory of his dogged-determination to get and keep our attention.

His prance that set the pace of our lives…the way his paws and body lifted when he greeted friend or foe; the silly gallop that greeted us when we got home; the hobby horse, bucking bronco when we pulled out the leash; the way he sat, still and ready, in his assistant chef position, anticipating the clean up; the shuffle of his toes against the hardwood; the “chase-of-the-crows run”, head down and surreptitious; the running paws as he dreamed of chasing squirrels; the lean against the leash when he wanted to smell for chicken bones or hamburger buns; his stubborn walk as we circled back home begging us for just another mile, just another sniff; the slurpy walk through marshes, padding wet paws occasionally lifted like a pointer or a great hunting dog; and the wading up to his chest in the lake or the river or the ocean, feet firmly planted on the earth. May your tired legs run with new energy in the blue sky of all dogs.

And his friends…past and present…Moses and Ruckus and Mario and Tomas and Buster and Sandy and Chloe and Dakota and Monty and Franklin and Josie and Frankie and Sasha and Sasha (yes, two), and Hope and Ringo and Keenan and Shelby and Ben and Brio and Lulu…yes, especially Lulu.

And his face – those eyes, those ears, that broad forehead – they way he could stare us down with such burning amber love; the professorial pondering late at night; the happy smile; the concerned worry; the ancient knowledge of scent and sound; the way one eyebrow lifted at the sound of his name; the droopy eyes as he fought sleep; the willingness to tend the pack even in his dreams; the tilt of the head; the muzzle laid softly against our thigh or curled up like a deer bedded down in a tall field of grass; the Rin-Tin-Tin look when scouting out the valley of some great hike; the look of anxious concern as he turned to make certain we were following; the hanging head when he gave into weariness; the curl of his lip when it stuck on his canine tooth; and the gentle kiss when we asked for it. May we never forget that face. May we never forget those eyes. May we never forget those soft, buttery ears.

It’s hard to say goodbye to such a friend. There is no way, in fact, and so we we’ll let our tears sing our farewells, remembering the softness of a spirit who still lives with us in so many ways. It’s hard to say goodbye and so we won’t. Three cheers to Chester and a toast of roasted chicken!