Thank you...

First, both Ann and I want to thank all of you bloggers in bloggersville for such warm and loving thoughts about our sweet, sweet Mr. Pajama Pants (aka, Chester).

We spent a nice weekend with our friends, Jeanne and Lisa, at their river cabin up over the mountains. It snowed. So fitting. Ann said Chester was shaking the clouds, eeking out the last bit of snow for us. We picked out river stones for our garden that reminded us of Chester. We'll make a garden stone for him when his cremation ashes come home and place it right next to Abbie's.

Ann just said, "Having the rocks in the car reminded me of the weight of him in the back seat on our way home. It didn't make the car feel so empty."

Yes, empty. We feel it deeply, his loss, his absence, his clicking toe nails on the floor.

But we also know there is relief that he will not have to walk down the road of suffering he was headed for with such certainty. The vet, a sweet man, very gentle and soft-spoken, told us he was touched by how much we did for Chester these past 10 months since the diagnosis of a brain tumor. "You did more than most would," he said, "And that shows such love you and your family have for each other."

We sobbed.

We sobbed for a long, long time.

But Chester had an amazingly good last day. Friday morning we rose early and fed him a hard-boiled egg and half a bagel. He smiled. Then we walked at Ravenna Park, one of his favorite new walks since our house-sitting stint, and the sun warmed us all despite the wintery temperatures. Next stop, our house to let him pee on his old haunts, followed by dinner of half a bagel, another hard boiled egg, and roasted chicken, huge hunks of it! He smiled again.

Finally, we ended the day with a walk at Seward Park, truly his favorite spot on earth. With his illness and medication, he was never able to walk more than 30 minutes before exhaustion set in. This was essentially his third walk for the day and to make the trek through the park takes, on a good day, about 40 minutes. Chester took over an hour this time, but stayed right in his pack spot, behind me and in front of Ann, the whole way. He wagged his black tail with the four white hairs at the tip the entire time and smiled, smiled, smiled like he hasn't done for months.

By the time we got to the vet, we knew he'd had one of the best days of his life.

He died at 6 pm on Good Friday. Peacefully, calmly, and with dignity. We surrounded him with our arms and with our love -- his faithful pack.

This morning, Easter morning, we toasted the day with toasted bagels together with Jeanne and Lisa, and both Ann and I waited to see if Chester, like Jesus, would rise again.

On the way home, we stopped along the highway at a beautiful bend in the river and said one last goodbye to him. It was hard to come home, even though it's not our home, but our housesitting home. We still fell apart wondering why he wasn't at the door to be let in, why he wasn't at his bowl waiting for dinner, why he wasn't there to monitor the unloading of bags, the setting up of laundry. More than once I have tried to fill his dog bowl with water only to catch myself and cry some more.

This is hard, this letting go, but we know he had a good life, a very good life, and was surrounded by love every minute of every day. Yes, he is with Dakota, his earth twin, and he is also with my former dog, Abbie (his soul twin sister) and with my dad's dog, Sasha, and Ann's former dog, Cocoa. He is not alone.

And we aren't either. We know there are many more tears to come...like tomorrow when we must tell our students (we bought our classes bagels for the same goodbye ritual and salute)...but the tears our, I guess, a further celebration of a beautiful, wonderful dog who shared our lives with his wagging tail, his happy smile, and his ever-loyal and faithful loving stare.

Thank you again, everyone...truly.