FAT CHARLIE

Never in my wildest imagining did I think I would be living with 7, 8, or 9 dogs in our house. When asked about this my usual response is…”I don’t love dogs, but I love my wife”, which is only half true. On my own, I would not be living with any dogs in my house, but dogs, raising them, showing them, racing them, loving them, and writing about them is my dear wife’s passion, and that makes them mine…well…almost mine. Ninety nine percent of the time I am either content or enthusiastic with our canine family, and one percent of the time I’m ready to give them all away.

And then there are those moments when I am alone with one of the whippets and something special happens, as it did just moments before I began writing this. Fat Charlie has been lying on “my” chair in the dining room while I’ve been eating dinner and listening to Johnny Cash radio. When I finished I took the dish to Charlie for the routine canine pre rinse cycle, sitting on the floor while he completed the task before him, something I’ve done countless times before. I removed the clean dish, and Charlie raised his head and looked at me; and I found myself looking into the dark pools of his eye, directly at the one of the gentlest souls God has ever sent to us. In that moment I knew unconditional love, and my heart belonged to him.



Tonight it was Charlie, tomorrow it may be Mama Pajama, or Delia, or William, or one of the other whippets. These are the magical moments that wash away all of the stress, anger, and frustration, and make living with our canine family possible.

OH CHARLIE

My dear wife left for the whippet nationals one week ago today, leaving me with the 5 oldsters, Mama Pajama, Fat Charlie, Delia, Luciano, and sad Sam I am, and easy group to manage, which I did, quite well I might add…until yesterday. At precisely 3:30 PM a client called to say he would be at the gallery in about 5 minutes to pick up the painting he was buying. Earlier I had promised him a cup of espresso when he came. I went into the kitchen an prepared the coffee and to my dismay saw Fat Charlie falling all over himself, unable to stand, let alone walk. Remembering our experiences with labyrinthitis in our other older whippets I looked for, and found the tell tale sign of nystagmus. I could not find any meclazine (antivert), and remaining very cool, I called Patience in a panic. She suggested the Dramamine we had on hand, and as I prepared to give it to him my client arrived and the coffee pot began to steam. I put my new friend to work watching the coffee pot, gave Charlie the Dramamine and put him in a crate. Then, sat down for a cup of espresso and talked art for 15-20 minutes before returning to the studio to wrap the painting. When we completed our transaction and the customer left with his painting I returned to the house and gave Charlie and second dose of Dramamine, and thought I was seeing an improvement. Alas, that was not to be, and at q quarter to 5, with Charlie on the front seat beside me we headed off to see the Doc who would confirm the diagnosis and told me Dramamine was useless. On the way home we stopped for some Meclazine, which I administered as soon as we were in the house.

It is over 24 hours later and Charlie is a little better, but still very wobbly and unable to stop from tilting to his right. He cannot do steps so I carry him up and down our evil staircase. Fortunately he is content to lie down…flop down would be more accurate…on one of the floor beds in the kitchen-dining room and sleep.
It breaks my heart to see him like this, with a puzzled look on his face as he tries to understand why he can’t walk like he is used to walking. Fat Charlie (he is NOT fat) has always been, and still is, a good soul. He never asks for anything, doesn’t whine or cry, and always has an even disposition. But, he is getting old, and it seems to be happening rather quickly. I don’t think I want to talk about it any more.


Patience, Fat Charlie (sitting), and the late Giacomino in her lap