Charlie

My mum likes to call Charlie Barney's cousin.

Charlie is really sick, and I'm sad for my brother and sister in law. I'm sad for Barney and me too, because I know one day we will be in the same horrible place.

Then I get cranky at myself, because sometimes I make myself think of these things when I know I get all sad. I get cranky at myself for being sad, then cranky that I get so upset about imaginary things when I should be upset about real life horrible things that happen in this world. And yet I turn on the news and it doesn't bring tears to my eyes, like the tears that are burning my eyes now just thinking about one sad thing that will happen one day. To a dog. Not a person, not a country full of people - but a dog. My dog, and Charlie dog.

But you know what? Dogs are special and they are loved and missed when they are gone. Dogs have funny personalities and do silly things. They have stories...like the time Charlie accidently ate a strangers whole roast chicken (foil and all) at a picnic ground. He may have eaten a loaf of bread too.

Charlie also came to visit one year when the plums were fruiting. He ate all the plums off the ground, like a big black plum hooverer. My dog, having lived through many seasons of plums without ever biting into one, all of a sudden became obsessed with plums. Couldn't get enough of them. Charlie went home and Barney never ate another plum again.

I hope Charlie rests up, and is given all the roast chicken he would ever want to eat. I hope he gets paddle pops and pats and lots of kisses, and has sweet dreams as he lies under the window in the sun.