Dear Brownie J. Chandler III,

I don’t know how to write this. Seven words in and tears are streaming down my face and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. In August of 2004 you came into my life an abandoned puppy, tossed into a cardboard box that was cast into a parking lot during a horrendous thunderstorm. I was dead set against the idea of adopting a dog on that day. “No way,” I told my girlfriend at the time. “We already have two cats and we live in a tiny apartment. It’s not going to happen.”

And, of course, it happened despite my protestations.

 

Thank god.

 

I remember telling her as we drove home that evening, “This is your dog. I’m not cleaning up after it, I’m not walking it, nothing. You deal with it.” I sat in the passenger seat of her car, looking down at this pitiful little mutt we didn’t have room for. You crawled up my chest and licked my nose.

 

Just like that, I had a dog.

 

But, more than that, you were my best good friend. My companion as I navigated life over the next 13+ years. You were there for my breakup with the girl that adopted you. You were there when I got together with Lambeau’s Mother, you were there as I took on the role of homeowner, you were there to meet your baby sister, and everything else (good and not good) over the years. We shared so many tears, both happy and sad. So much laughter. So many couch naps. Fur. Lots and lots of fur.

 

You weren’t a particularly well-minded dog. Oh, sure, you’d listen to me, but woe unto anyone else that tried to get you to do something you didn’t want to. You chewed things with wild abandon and in your puppy days you made it a habit of escaping any fence you found yourself on the wrong side of. You used to make me so mad as I ran down busy roads at full speed while you gleefully hightailed it, blissfully unaware (or maybe blissfully fully aware) of how much danger you were in. I’d scold you when I finally caught you by the scruff and you’d just wag your tail and bark at me until I couldn’t help but laugh and race you home, leash tightly secured.

 

On Christmas Day, 2017 I made the decision that your health had gotten bad enough that it was time to take you to the vet one last time. I knelt with you in the dining room where you were laying on your bed and I cried and kissed your head. I collected myself because I could tell you were getting upset. I gave you some ear scratches and went to see a movie. I was off that week and I planned on calling the vet the next day. When I got home I greeted you, let you out to pee, and when you were back inside I snuggled with you some more. You were an old dog and you’d had a good life but I was still heartbroken to know that my time with you was limited.

 

I had no idea how limited it was.

 

I’d been invited to a friend’s house for dinner with his family. When I returned a few hours later, there you were. In the doorway like always. Guarding the house from any wrong doers that might have ill intent towards you and yours. You passed away while keeping your home safe.

 

I am distraught beyond my pale ability to communicate. You’ve been with me through every hardship and celebration of the last 13 and a half years. You were the absolute best good friend a guy could have ever asked for.

 

I will never forget you, or the warmth and happiness and joy you brought into my life and everyone that met you. I’ll love you forever, Brownie J. Chandler III

 

Love,

Elijah