Charlie, our dog, has been so in the doghouse lately. It’s been raining heavily for days and, being the neurotic girl that she is, she’s been unlocking our back sliding door, muddying up her paws, and tracking the mud throughout the house. Even worse, she’s been passing atrocious gas in our bedroom every night. This last week we’ve finally got our bedroom the way we want it. Theoretically, it has become a real refuge for us. So, we take a deep breath, sit down each night ready to escape from the world and Charlie lays one bomb after another. Two days ago I woke up and thought we must have had a skunk in the yard the night before. I honestly thought that’s what it was. Last night, I was digging through the laundry hamper because I thought someone must have hidden a dirty diaper somewhere. Needless to say, we’re going back to the old dog food. Oh, and did I mention she also has terrible breath?

Charlie’s worst crime is no fault of her own. It’s that I can’t look at her without feeling incredibly guilty. My Charlie. My first baby girl. That’s actually what I used to call her before she was demoted to family pet. I used to sing to her and she would jump on me smother my mouth with excited kisses. And now, she is a reminder of all the attention I no longer give her.

We got Charlie when we were graduate students. We were first time dog owners and so in love with her. We started out fostering dogs at the local humane society. She was our third foster dog. By that time, I was looking for a keeper. Charlie caught my eye. She’s a black and tan Shepard mix-probably near 90% Shepard and 10% something else, perhaps lab. She’s smaller than most Shepards and has a shorter, fuller face, and beautiful eyes. She had only been at the shelter a short time when we saw her. We took her home and I immediately knew I wanted to keep her. She was a snuggler and extremely smart and submissive and by the end of the first night I was in tears begging to keep her.

That was 6 years ago, but it feels like a lifetime. It’s hard to remember life without her. Her life with us and devotion is intertwined with the birth of our children and our memories with them. Charlie was frantic when I was in the hospital when Rachel was born, and then moped the first few days, staring at me from across the room with the saddest eyes. In the end, though, it was a wonderful time for Charlie because I went hiking regularly with Rachel in her front pack and took Charlie with me. When I brought Hannah home from the hospital, she nervously paced and we weren’t sure why. Then Hannah started crying and Charlie went wild with relief and excitement. I realized I had put Hannah, sleeping in her car-seat, on the counter, without showing her to Charlie. Charlie knew I was no longer pregnant, but didn’t see a baby. It made her crazy.

The following summer Charlie’s kidney’s were suddenly failing and we were told we had to choose between putting her to sleep or spending 15 to 45 thousand dollars to put her on dialysis. After crying together at the vet hospital, we brought her home thinking it was our final night with her. That night I longed for one more day of seeing her healthy and happy. Then a phone call paid off, when a friend recommended a vet friend, who told me over the phone that it sounded like Leptosporosis and said I should bring Charlie to her and we’d treat her for it. Two days later Charlie’s bloodwork was normal again. The vet still refers to her the miracle dog. It was leptosporosis and it was amazing that her kidney’s weren’t damaged.

So, here she still is, living a pretty good life, but not getting the attention she deserves–and getting quite an earful from us when she gets out of line. Why is so hard for me to give her the simple petting that she needs? Why do I get so annoyed by her? When I do give her extra attention she spends the whole night looking at me with such love in her eyes I feel unworthy.

And so, my New Year’s Resolution this year was to be more patient and loving with good, old Charlie. I’m thinking of getting her teeth cleaned first to make her kisses more appetizing. And we’ve got to get that digestive problem worked out. In the meantime, keep hanging in there, dear Charlie. Ride this out with me. Life will improve, I promise. But, stop opening that damn door!