In Memory of Our Beloved Chip
Today we lost our loyal family companion. Chip died about 11am Cyprus time after suffering a major seizure in the wee hours Thursday morning. We are heartbroken, but feel so very lucky to have had 9 years of his love in our life.
The following will eventually be cleaned up and posted on our blog with the many photo memories we have of him. But for now, I will share it here with a smaller album.
His puppy years, after we adopted him from the shelter in Belgium, may have been his and our happiest. We lived near a network of farm roads and wooded trails. He could run and run and jump and chase. He would retrieve sticks from the stream over and over. He was at his happiest wet and dirty on the banks of that stream. One of my favorite memories is of the beautiful clear, crisp day that he went jumping through the hayfield. He did this often, but that day we caught it on camera. It was pure joy in motion. On another day, he chose the wrong field to run through and was chased by a large herd of cows. He traveled so many places with us in Europe. He peed on a public bus in Paris.
When he moved with us from Germany to Florida in late May 2010, he must have thought he’d entered the 7th level of hell. He was so hot. He had never been really hot before. (Little did he know, 4 years later we would take him to an even hotter place.) He had big yards to run in there. He loved to chase the ball at our house in Gulf Breeze and he snuck in some pool soaks at my parents’ house when my Dad wasn’t looking. He also fell in love with my Aunt Jane. I still believe she is his favorite person on the planet earth. I am so glad he got to see her again this past summer. I am so sorry I didn’t catch their reunion on video. He went nuts. Even after 2.5 years away from her, he knew her right away and could not control his happiness.
I know Saudi Arabia was hard on him, but he didn’t complain. He was happy to be with us, his people. We made the best we could of it. He made new human friends in Saudi Arabia, young and old. He turned more hearts. People who didn’t love dogs found themselves in love with him and open to loving other dogs. That was his charm. He was the only dog my Mother ever bathed. Hers was the first heart he ever turned.
He lived with us through so many changes, so many moves. He witnessed us bringing home both our daughters and embraced our bigger family. To him, more was merrier. He even tolerated the addition of our crazy Arabian Mau rescue cat. Our older cat had put him in his place as a puppy. They would wrestle in the kitchen when he was still smaller than Schnapps. They loved each other and for a long time he thought all cats were as good as Schnapps.
Those are the memories of his life with us. One day they will warm my heart and comfort me. But right now these memories bring floods of tears and heartache. I mourn for the lost time with him. For the days I didn’t have time to throw the ball or take him for a long walk. I am upset about the times I was short with him, got angry and spoke harshly to him. I mourn for the memories we didn’t get to make with him here in Cyprus. He endured 30 long months on veritable house arrest in Saudi Arabia. I wanted to take him to the beach, to the dog parks and hiking on the trails of Cyprus. We won’t get to do any of those things, and that breaks my heart. I also worry that there was something I did that caused his problems or something I could have done that would have changed things. I mourn simply for his presence. There are tennis balls in the yard, but he’s not there to chase them. I miss him in the quiet moments when all I could hear was his quiet snoring. I miss him in the loud moments. He was our barometer. If we were getting too stressed, our voices strained, he would leave the room and we knew we needed to take a breather.
I am trying to keep the memories of his life in the forefront of my mind. Even though they are painful, I need to use them to block out the horrific pictures I have in my head of his final seizure and the scene of him lying there at the Vet Hospital in a coma in the kennel. That was not him. His spirit was already gone. His spirit is jumping through that hayfield in Germany, chasing sticks in a stream at Douthat State Park, swimming in the ocean at the Outer Banks, sleeping at the foot of Cori’s bed…. and peeing on a public bus in Paris.
I love you Chip. I hope you have met Fritz, your other kitty brother that crossed the Rainbow Bridge before you became part of our family. I hope there is a hayfield and a beautiful blue sky and a stream where you can play. And if there is-- and if there is real love in this world and the next-- one day I will throw sticks for you there until you can’t run anymore. Then you can put your head in my lap and rest, just like you used to do.
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The following will eventually be cleaned up and posted on our blog with the many photo memories we have of him. But for now, I will share it here with a smaller album.
His puppy years, after we adopted him from the shelter in Belgium, may have been his and our happiest. We lived near a network of farm roads and wooded trails. He could run and run and jump and chase. He would retrieve sticks from the stream over and over. He was at his happiest wet and dirty on the banks of that stream. One of my favorite memories is of the beautiful clear, crisp day that he went jumping through the hayfield. He did this often, but that day we caught it on camera. It was pure joy in motion. On another day, he chose the wrong field to run through and was chased by a large herd of cows. He traveled so many places with us in Europe. He peed on a public bus in Paris.
When he moved with us from Germany to Florida in late May 2010, he must have thought he’d entered the 7th level of hell. He was so hot. He had never been really hot before. (Little did he know, 4 years later we would take him to an even hotter place.) He had big yards to run in there. He loved to chase the ball at our house in Gulf Breeze and he snuck in some pool soaks at my parents’ house when my Dad wasn’t looking. He also fell in love with my Aunt Jane. I still believe she is his favorite person on the planet earth. I am so glad he got to see her again this past summer. I am so sorry I didn’t catch their reunion on video. He went nuts. Even after 2.5 years away from her, he knew her right away and could not control his happiness.
I know Saudi Arabia was hard on him, but he didn’t complain. He was happy to be with us, his people. We made the best we could of it. He made new human friends in Saudi Arabia, young and old. He turned more hearts. People who didn’t love dogs found themselves in love with him and open to loving other dogs. That was his charm. He was the only dog my Mother ever bathed. Hers was the first heart he ever turned.
He lived with us through so many changes, so many moves. He witnessed us bringing home both our daughters and embraced our bigger family. To him, more was merrier. He even tolerated the addition of our crazy Arabian Mau rescue cat. Our older cat had put him in his place as a puppy. They would wrestle in the kitchen when he was still smaller than Schnapps. They loved each other and for a long time he thought all cats were as good as Schnapps.
Those are the memories of his life with us. One day they will warm my heart and comfort me. But right now these memories bring floods of tears and heartache. I mourn for the lost time with him. For the days I didn’t have time to throw the ball or take him for a long walk. I am upset about the times I was short with him, got angry and spoke harshly to him. I mourn for the memories we didn’t get to make with him here in Cyprus. He endured 30 long months on veritable house arrest in Saudi Arabia. I wanted to take him to the beach, to the dog parks and hiking on the trails of Cyprus. We won’t get to do any of those things, and that breaks my heart. I also worry that there was something I did that caused his problems or something I could have done that would have changed things. I mourn simply for his presence. There are tennis balls in the yard, but he’s not there to chase them. I miss him in the quiet moments when all I could hear was his quiet snoring. I miss him in the loud moments. He was our barometer. If we were getting too stressed, our voices strained, he would leave the room and we knew we needed to take a breather.
I am trying to keep the memories of his life in the forefront of my mind. Even though they are painful, I need to use them to block out the horrific pictures I have in my head of his final seizure and the scene of him lying there at the Vet Hospital in a coma in the kennel. That was not him. His spirit was already gone. His spirit is jumping through that hayfield in Germany, chasing sticks in a stream at Douthat State Park, swimming in the ocean at the Outer Banks, sleeping at the foot of Cori’s bed…. and peeing on a public bus in Paris.
I love you Chip. I hope you have met Fritz, your other kitty brother that crossed the Rainbow Bridge before you became part of our family. I hope there is a hayfield and a beautiful blue sky and a stream where you can play. And if there is-- and if there is real love in this world and the next-- one day I will throw sticks for you there until you can’t run anymore. Then you can put your head in my lap and rest, just like you used to do.
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