I remember the day we found you. We were on vacation, going to Martha's Vineyard for Labor Day Weekend. We drove down to Woods Hole in our Jeep and decided to get some dinner. As we were walking downtown, we saw a sign for free puppies. It was nearby, so we decided to take a look. We pulled up to the house and saw a big fenced in area around the side of the house. As we approached, the owner came out and greeted us, taking us around back, where you and your siblings were playing and Mom was nearby. She was a black lab, but he didn't know who the father was; he guessed it must've been a shepherd or rottweiler mix, because you all looked like tiny little rottweiler puppies. There were 8 puppies in the litter and some had already been picked out by other families. There were still a few puppies available and you were one of them.

At first, you hung back, near the end of the pen, uncertain of who we were. But as I stooped down and held my hand out, you came to me and let me pet you; you were very gentle and a little afraid, and when I picked you up, you seemed a little unsure. But we knew instantly we wanted you. The hard part was going to Martha's Vineyard for the long weekend and waiting to pick you up until we were headed back home! Unfortunately, the B&B we were staying at wouldn't allow dogs, so we went ahead with our vacation plans, but thought about you the whole time! Richard picked out your name: Charlotte. He liked the story of Charlotte's Web and, though I wasn't sure about the name at first, it seemed to suit your personality -- sweet, shy, playful...you were all of those things all of your life.

I remember going to pick you up. We were so excited!!! There you were, with Mama. This part was a little sad. The owner picked you up, brought you over to your mother and said "say Goodbye to Mama." You touched noses and he swiftly handed you over to me. I think you were a little nervous, because you peed on my new sweatshirt, but I didn't care. You were so soft and sweet and beautiful. My new beautiful puppy.

We had made a small wooden box for the Jeep, which sat snugly between the 2 front seats, and we placed a blanket in it and you fit perfectly! You had your 2 front paws resting on the edge of the box and you peeked around, looking back and forth at us, and out the windows on your first big adventure of life. When we got home, we took you up to our apartment, which was a large loft-like space in a converted barn. You would have over 30 acres of woods, fields and ponds to go exploring! You weren't quite big enough to walk up the stairs, so we carried you up and introduced you to your new home. You were hesitant at first, but then you began to walk around, checking out the shoes in the corner, the coffee table, the plants...then you caught a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror in our bedroom. At first you were frightened; you didn't seem to know you were looking at your own reflection, and you ran away, around the corner. Then, slowly, you peeked around the corner again, took in your reflection, and slowly approached the mirror. It was very funny and very cute to see you discovering things for the first time!

Time seemed to go by very quickly when you were a puppy. You grew so fast! You had the most beautiful fur and markings -- jet black fur, with the tell-tale brown rottweiler-like markings on your face and chest, with a narrow strip of shock-white fur on your chest, which ran in a straight line down to your tummy. What a cutie! And of course, there were your eyes. Your left eye was blue; your right was brown. Actually, your left eye was called an "albino" eye because, technically, it didn't have any pigment. But the reflection of light made it appear crystal blue and in every picture, you can clearly see that you have one blue eye. At first, the vet told us it would most likely change to brown, but it never did. And he also told us that you were most likely part Australian Shepherd -- which would become more apparent as you grew. Your long, soft, shepherd coat was the most beautiful I've ever seen. Everyone who met you commented on how beautiful you were; how soft was your fur; how sweet your face. Some people were frightened by your different color eyes at first, but when they met you and saw how sweet and gentle you were, they fell in love with you, just like we did. My family loved you, too. My parents called you the "Grand Puppy," because I didn't have any children. They enjoyed doting on you and taking care of you while I was at work. Mom took some video of you when you were a puppy, which I just recently watched again. I cannot get over how tiny you were; how sweet and shy; rarely a peep out of you. You became very attached to us. When we left you to go out to dinner or the movies, we would put a baby gate in the bedroom doorway, so you couldn't get into any mischief while we were away. You would stand up on your hind legs and put your front paws over the gate and cry. We tried to crate you at night, but you were so sweet and sad, that we would inevitably bring you up onto the bed with us. You slept on the bed with me for almost the rest of your life. I loved waking up to your sleepy little furry face in the morning and the cute little noises you would make in your sleep. It was only in your final year that you could no longer sleep on the bed; the neurological problems you developed as an elderly dog made it too risky that you might fall during the night and hurt yourself. But I placed your bed right next to mine and I still hear your soft breathing next me before I go to sleep. Reaching down to pet your head is a habit that will be hard to break.

I remember when we had you spayed. You were 4 months old; we cried as we dropped you off at the vet. We couldn't stand the thought of you being scared or in pain. The rest of your life, whenever you had to go to the vet, I would be the one to take you. That was okay with me; even though I didn't like to see you hurting or frightened, I knew you would get better and I would be there to soothe you and care for you. All of the times you got sick or hurt during your lifetime, I cherished the days I spent with you while you convalesced; you would sleep very close to me on the couch or the bed, and I would softly rub your tummy and stroke your fur. Even now, as I watch you struggle almost 16 years later, I am so grateful I get to be the one to care for you; sit with you; lie with you at night; and comfort you as you say Goodbye to the world. But this story is about your life; not your death.

You had a zest for life, the likes of which I have never seen in a dog before. I think it was because you were so happy to be in a loving home with people that absolutely adored you. Not that you didn't raise our ire from time to time. Despite our best efforts, you managed to make plenty of mischief. There was that first Christmas, when you chewed a hole in the rug my parents had given us as a gift. I was so mad at first; but then I realized it was just a rug and you were just a young dog cutting your first teeth. Keeping that in mind, it made it easier to deal with the times you (1) chewed the corners off the coffee table; (2) ate half the Halloween pumpkin on the front porch; (3) mutilated countless pairs of shoes; (4) destroyed several remote controls; and (5) devoured any kind of paper product you could get your paws on. I would be lying if I called these episodes misbehavior -- the truth is, we let you do these things, because we cared less about having a perfect home and more about you just having fun. Perhaps we indulged you too much. All I know is, you returned to us one-million-fold the small kindnesses we showed you. Your love and affection was unrelenting. So was your forgiveness. I regret ever saying an unkind word to you. I wince thinking back at the times I raised my voice, or hurried you along on our walks because you were "taking too long" and I didn't want to be late to work. It was impossible to stay angry with you, even when you had misbehaved...you would look up at me, full of remorse for whatever transgression you had committed and all would be forgiven as you moved in closer, nudging me with your nose and licking my hand.

All those years you were a healthy, strong, happy dog. You developed some medical issues as you aged, but nothing too alarming, until that September, 4 years ago, when I found that lump in your side. The vet found a large tumor overtaking your spleen and the prognosis was very bad. It had begun to bleed into your belly and was very likely cancerous; they told me you had about a week to live, maybe less. I took you home, devastated, and decided to stay home with you for your final days, just being with you and cherishing the time we had left. But a week went by and you didn't seem to get any worse, so back to the vet we went. He recommended taking the tumor out -- at the very least, it would make you more comfortable. He said you were very strong, with every chance of making it through the surgery. And so I decided to go ahead with it and, as always, you came through without a single complication. Then the absolutely amazing news came a few days later -- the biopsy indicated no cancer -- the tumor appeared to be benign! Although the vet cautioned that there might still be cancer that wasn't found in the specimen, I took you home and decided that I would just enjoy every day I had with you, whether it was 1 or 100...little did I know, I would be blessed with 4 more years...That scare was a blessing in disguise, for it reminded me that your life would likely end long before mine, and I would have to learn to live without you one day. After that, I was fully aware of how precious each and every moment with you would be.

Over the next 4 years, you remained very strong, but the effects of age slowly began to show. Our walks became slower and shorter, and we rested more along the way. That was okay, I think we both had the chance to notice things that we had so happily skipped past when our walks were livelier and there was a park to explore, or stick to throw, or another dog to play with. As time went by, you would often stop, look up at me and just "take a breather." I loved to kneel down and pull you into me, feeling the warmth of your furry body against me.

This past year has been a difficult one for you, but still filled with so many happy memories -- you have loved living in Marblehead with me, exploring the beaches and parks, riding in the car -- your head out the window as we drove up the coastline, exploring all of the little towns along the north shore. We had lots of adventures, you and me. As long as you were with me, you were happy. It was just the 2 of us for a long long time and then, one day, you met Erik. He brought cookies for you and flowers for me. He was so gentle and kind with you and soon, you fell in love with each other. These past few months, when you have needed help getting around the house or going outside, Erik has always been there to hold you, or carry you if need be. To watch him gently cradle you in his arms and treat you with such loving care brings a peace to me I cannot quite describe. He has slept by your side while I worked and comforted you in the night while I slept. He has laughed at your antics and marveled at your health and long life. He has known the sorrow of losing a best friend and has cried at the thought of losing you. Oh how he loves you!

Maybe you were waiting to make sure that I would be alright; maybe you were pre-destined to live a long, healthy life; whatever the fates held, I could never be anything but grateful for having you in my life. Saying Goodbye to you is heart-breaking, but it is softened by the memories you've left me with -- a lifetime's worth. More time would never be time enough. My best friend, my sweet baby girl, my puppyhead, my chapup, my cuddlebug, my sweetpea. My Charlotte. Thank you for picking me. I will love you forever.