Early this morning our family dog, Chip, died.

We got him while I was in fourth grade, dad wanted to get a dog that was related to the first dog he had ever bought (we are talking Labrador Retrievers for hunting here, not show dogs...) So he ended up having to order Chip from another state and have him flown to us. I remember Mom didn't really want to get a new dog since we already had two (Dart and Ray) so Dad bought Chip in secret and her arrived on a day that mom was spending time with friends away from the house until that evening and then all her friends were coming over for dinner, so dad hid Chip in the barn until after dinner and had me bring him up while all of Mom's friends were there, so she couldn't get angry and although she was annoyed she never did get really angry about Dad going behind her back like that.

Dad was super protective of Chip and would often remind us not to let him out of our sight ever, I remember since my room was the only one that the dogs weren't readily allowed access to Chip would stay with me for the night so someone could keep an eye on him if he needed to be let out, and I would sleep on the floor with him.

One day while I was over at a friends I got a phone call from my mom telling me that I should see if I couldn't stay at my friends house that night because Chip (still very much a puppy) had just been attacked by our dog Dart, and the damage was so bad they had to take him into the animal hospital in Portland. I later found out that what had happened was Dad turned his back on Chip for just a moment when Chip ran around the island in our kitchen and right into Dart's face, in surprise Dart lashed out and bit Chip on the nose, crushing it nearly completely. Against everyone else's better judgement Dad opted to spend the thousands of dollars on surgery to put Chip back together. Chip's nose never grew out properly and he had a huge under bite since and trouble breathing.

Dad has taken Chip hunting in South Dakota every year in October and this year was no exception, he got back last week and Chip, although tired, seemed fine. It wasn't until a few days later that we noticed anything was wrong, but he didn't seem to be getting any better, in fact he was getting more and more lethargic. When Dad finally took him to the vet, Chip was unable to stand on his own, he wasn't eating as much and he had begun vomiting anything in his stomach. Earlier this year he had begun to have heart problems (a common thing for labs) and was already on medicine for that, but he seemed to have caught something in South Dakota, and his already weak heart even the smallest illness was able to create big problems for Chip.

Last night Chip stopped eating altogether and Dad had to force him to take his medicine and chicken broth. This morning dad was out in the kitchen laying next to him, and a few minutes after I saw them together in the kitchen, Dad came into my room to tell me that Chip had passed away. While I'm writing this Dad is currently burying Chip in our back yard.

Chip was the first dog that we owned that I really remember their whole life well. He was also the sweetest dog ever. He always just wanted to be liked by everyone, and loved everyone he ever met. He was a very special dog to all of us and will be dearly missed.

Sorry for that downer of an entry, but it feels better to write it...