Goodnight, Chase

This week’s post has little to do with music. It has everything to do with love.

My best friend, my roommate, my dog, Chase, passed away yesterday. He was 13 years old.

Chase died peacefully in my arms at the clinic surrounded by the people who loved him most in his life: my mother, my father, my sister, and me. He was lucky in life to be loved how he was loved, and he was lucky in death to be surrounded by his family.

An Unexpected Friendship

I was going to school in Miami when my father brought a little white Maltese puppy home as a cute present for my little sister, then in third grade.

He used to chase her around the house. And so he got his name – Chase.

I had no idea at the time I would form such a strong connection with him. Somewhere along the line, we got attached. Maybe it was playtime. Maybe it was naptime on my lap. Maybe it was all those times he heard me playing my guitar from across the house and trekked up the staircase just to lay next to me and listen. Chase always loved music.

We spent a lot of time together for about a year, and then I left home. I was gone for a year and a half. When I finally returned, I felt like a different person. I was skinny. My hair was different, as was my demeanor. I felt weighed down by the hardships I’d endured. I felt utterly unrecognizable.

Not to Chase, though. He recognized me instantly and ran straight to me, absolutely beside himself and showering me with barks and jumps and kisses as I stepped back into his life. I cried with joy to see him again, too.

Roommates

When I moved back out, he stayed behind with my parents and sister. He was beginning to grow old. This was around another sad time, when my grandmother Caridad Planas, or “Mi Tata” as we called her, passed away. Regrettably, I was unable to attend her funeral in Miami, so I agreed to watch Chase while my family flew east.

He came for a weekend sleepover, but turned into a permanent relocation. He just never went back. I officially adopted him about two years ago.

Chase was already an old man by then. His eyes were clouding. He was sleeping more. But he sparked to life a bit when he moved in with me. We had wonderful times watching movies and playing music. I felt awful when I would work all day and work gigs at night, and he would grumble and complain at me sometimes, but we always worked things out.

The Hardest Day

Yesterday was the culmination of several health problems coming to a head. I changed his diet to aid his kidneys, which were failing. I stopped walking him with a leash, instead opting to carry him around, since he could no longer see – blinded by cataracts. He slept more and more and spoke less and less. Finally, he stopped eating. I tried everything to convince him to eat, but nothing worked. He just wanted to sleep.

I picked up his delicate little frame the night before last and was terrified because I could see in his face that he was done. But I didn’t want to believe it. I just had to convince him to eat again. I took him to the vet the next morning, looking for a solution but filled with dread, because deep down, I knew.

The days will pass, but his memory will not.

A Message for My Boy

Goodnight, Chase. I’ll meet you by the rainbow bridge some sunny day. Until then, rest easy, boy. I love you forever, Chase.

Chris Lazaga
AudioMunk

This post went up on a Wednesday. Out of love and respect for my friend, I will not post again until Monday, June 10. Afterwards, I will return to weekly Monday posts.