Charlotte the Poodle: September 15, 2013 – January 6, 2025
It’s been a very hard week.
We very abruptly lost our eleven-year-old standard poodle Charlie on Monday, and it’s hard to express just how awful that is, and how much you want the world to just… stop. And pause. And recognize the enormous loss you’ve suffer when you lose an amazing animal like Charlie.
Unfortunately life doesn’t stop. It goes on, and so I have to keep chugging along and doing all the things it takes to be alive and run a business and buy groceries and get dressed in the morning. I just have to do all those things without Charlie waiting patiently for me.
Charlie was a stellar dog in all ways. She was the first poodle I ever owned (though my mom has had standards for years) and the moment I got her, I understood why so many writers adore poodles.
John Steinbeck, Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo, Gertrude Stein, and Erma Bombeck were only some of the famous writers who wrote with poodle assistants, and indeed, part of my motivation for naming Charlie was my love for Steinbeck.
Standard poodles are remarkable companion animals. They are affectionate yet independent. Smart and very easy to train. Their temperament leans toward calm and centered, yet very doggie in all the right ways.
Charlie could be shy—even more reserved than the average poodle—and she took a little time to warm up to strangers. She didn’t like people to come at her, she preferred approaching them. If you were the lucky person to immediately win her affection, consider yourself blessed and your lap would be nearly constantly occupied with her very fluffy head.
She was the dog that my friends brought their dog-shy kids to meet. You might be afraid of an overenthusiastic Labrador, but it was nearly impossible to be afraid of Charlie. Her hair felt like a chenille blanket, and petting her was like touching a stuffed animal come to life.
But though she was shy, when Charlie was with her people, she was pure, bounding joy. She loved zooming around our front garden while I was working or visiting friends. She adored exploring the forest behind our cabin in the Sierras, where she was able to run and jump over trees and sniff endless squirrel trails, or bark at bears (real or imaginary) in the distance. I never worried about her wandering too far. She always kept me in sight.
Charlie was my sure companion and a wonderful guardian if I needed a weekend by myself. If I had her with me, I was never lonely.
The last year or so Charlie slowed down a bit, though she was an enthusiastic big sister to Coco, our mini poodle, and she was the object of adoration for Simba, our little rescue pup with the heart of a lion.
We didn’t realize that she had liver cancer, and the mass that had grown on her liver had next to no symptoms until it burst and caused internal bleeding that would be prove to be fatal. She didn’t have a lingering illness, severe discomfort, or shock. In fact, Charlie was her happy self right up until the morning she passed. I will always be grateful for that.
There is no replacing a dog like Charlie, so we have to go on, and I will personally enjoy the idea of her running through the forest with her big brother, Mac, who ran across the Rainbow Bridge nearly five years ago.
I’m sure there are all sorts of new sniffs to share.
I hope wherever you are, you’ll take a chance to be kind to a dog today. They’re really extraordinary creatures. Cuddle your furry or scaly friends of any species and appreciate them while you can.
And in honor of Charlie, I’d ask you today to learn a few poodle lessons:
- Be patient. Not everyone is lucky enough to be a poodle.
- You have to brush your hair, so don’t squirm too much. Just get it over with bravely.
- Enjoy your chewy without gobbling it too fast.
- If the opportunity to steal good sourdough bread off the counter comes along… DO IT. It’s worth any temporary scolding.
- Same goes for fancy leather journals.
- And finally, don’t forget to be kind to the humans around you… even if they can be a little scary sometimes.
With love, Elizabeth
Sending peace and comfort. My Gracie the Wonder Dog died 4 years ago and I still miss her. Enough that I can’t seem to get another pup since she was the best doggie ever.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Elizabeth. Nothing compares to the love of a furry friend. Sounds like you had a very special friend and companion. I lost my kitty man of 17 years in August and I miss him every day. I think we are so lucky to have their love, we can never truly regret how short their wonderful little lives are. Hugs to you.