Chollo the Dog

When Nik was around ten years old, he began begging me to let him have a dog. His media campaign included a list of the advantages of having a dog, and how Nik would be responsible for all the dogs needs. I hemmed, I hawed, and finally, I caved in.

Nik saved his allowance, and when he had enough money to adopt a dog, I took him to the Panhandle Animal Shelter. I hoped for an older dog, a pet that was mature and less likely to destroy the new carpet. Nik had other ideas, and when he saw the mixed-up-lab puppies, he fell in love with the biggest one.

We took the puppy home with us after Nik signed a contract, and received instructions on how to care for his new pet. The puppy came with a 10-day warranty, and I remember every day that puppy would get into some kind of mischief, and Nik would declare, “I’m taking him back.” But the puppy, now named Chollo, had other ideas, and Chollo would always win his way back into Nik’s heart.

Nik paid for Chollo’s dog food, went with him to the Vet to get his shots and have him fixed, took him on walks, and loved him whole heartedly. They were inseparable, and when Chollo ate a hole in my new carpet, destroyed some furniture, or puked on the floor, Nik did his best to clean up the mess and make financial amends.

When Nik died in a car accident, I took Chollo to the site, and Chollo showed me where our boy had died (the police report that I later received confirmed Chollo’s findings). Chollo mourned the death of his boy. We both moped around the house, going into Nik’s empty room and howling out our grief.

Chollo loved to go horseback riding with me, but after Nik died, he started lunging for the horse’s neck whenever I tried to mount. It was as if he was afraid of loosing me, too. Chollo’s horseback riding days were over, and I had to buy him a kennel to keep him from eating through doors, blinds, and screens to get to me.

But through everything, Chollo was there for me—my strongest connection to Nik. But dogs age faster than their humans, and as Chollo grayed, I worried about the final cutting of the strings that bound me to Nik’s memories.

John the horseshoer advised me to get another dog, because a new dog would bring life back to Chollo, and be there for me when Chollo died. The next day I adopted Little Girl from the Panhandle Animal Shelter. Chollo mentored her, and for the next two years, he had a revised spirit, more vigor, and more life.

Chollo, 14, got cancer, and we did the best we could. Toward the end, I prayed and asked Nik to take Chollo home, because I wasn’t sure I could make the decision to have him put to sleep. One morning, the number of my horse vet literally fell into my lap, and I knew that it was time to make the call.

The vet came out with an assistant, and Chollo died with dignity and grace in our livingroom, surrounded by his cats, his little sister, and me. He simply went to sleep, his heart still filled with love, but his body completely wore out. Much to my surprise, I had a head rush of gratitude, to be a part of his passing, to ensure that he went on his way gracefully.

We buried him in Nik’s garden, with four paws worth of Nik’s ashes. Today, snow, falling like angel wings, covers his grave. I see Chollo running, unhampered by cancer, beside his boy, wild and free.