This is a short story about a long life.

Almost 15 years ago, my wife, Jessica, and I settled in to watch Silence of the Lambs on television. As with most movies, when you have little kids, we had never seen it in the theater. Even if you've never seen this grisly tale about Hannibal Lechter, you've probably heard plenty. After the movie, Jessica turned to me and said "We're getting a dog." I mentioned that we already had one: Jingles, a Dachshund/Chihuahua mix. "I mean a bigger dog.," she replied. "Unless an intruder has unusually sensitive ankles, Jingles won't make the grade." So, the next day we headed over to the animal shelter. Originally, we went there because we saw an ad for a dog that seemed to fit the bill. However, when we arrived, the first dog was a little uneasy around our toddler-size boys so we decided to pass. As we were leaving, I made eye contact with another pooch. She was not a very pretty pup. In fact, she was not a puppy at all. She was about medium size...some German Shepherd but, mostly, who knows what. We took her outside to see how she reacted to the kids. It seemed a perfect fit. We took her.

As it turned out, we were her last chance. She had been a stray for much of her first year of life before getting caught and taken to the shelter. She was adopted once but returned. This was back when many shelters had only a limited amount of time they could hold onto a dog and our choice had several strikes against her. Frankly, it was easy to look past her and notice only the cute, cuddly little puppies in the next pen. Having been adopted and returned once already didn't help her odds either. The thing that had kept her around was her very sweet temperament. The good-hearted workers at the shelter just loved her and, against policy, had kept her in the running for a home past the deadline.

On the way home, we asked the boys to name the new arrival. I was reading a book about Richard Nixon at the time and mentioned that he'd had a dog named Checkers made famous in a speech that saved his position on the Eisenhower ticket back in the 50s. The boys ignored most of what I said, a talent they have honed to perfection as teenagers, but latched onto the name Checkers. Her time on the streets had made her deathly afraid of thunder and loud trucks but I always got the sense she would defend the kids at any cost. She seemed to understand that our house was her last, best hope and she made a point of quietly fitting in from day one.

Checkers got along fine with the aforementioned Jingles, who was rather autocratic in his rule, anyway. Later, when we got a Golden Retriever puppy, it was Checkers who taught the new recruit the ropes and did it very well. She loved the snow and the cold. She loved to eat. She loved to take walks. She was amazingly attentive to the kids. When our daughter was a baby, Checkers was often the first to hear the little one wake up and go in her room to make sure all was well. She didn't like cameras so she rarely showed up on TV with me (she probably knew better!) or, even, in many photographs around home. We do have one from a long-ago Winters day where Grandpa is pushing the boys down a little hill on a sled. Checkers is right there...on top of the situation...making sure her boys are okay.

In the last year or so, Checkers still took walks...just shorter ones with the younger kids. She still ate all her food and looked for any snacks you'd be willing to share. She loved to go outside and sniff around. As her hearing and eyesight diminished, her sense of smell seemed to get more acute. Most of the time, she would curl up in front of the bookshelves and snooze. Every now and then, she'd look up to make sure we were all there and okay, smile (yes, like my mom, I firmly believe dogs smile)...then go back to sleep.

Anyone who has a pet, knows that there is a pretty good chance that, at some point, you may need to make a tough decision about what is best for your furry friend. Sometime back, I mentioned to my wife, that I had a feeling Checkers would not force us to make that choice. She'd spent her whole life being easy-going...a perfect member of the family. I thought she'd probably make it a little easier for us, even at the end, and go out on her own terms, in her own time. Well, on Friday, after at least 15 years of life, she did exactly that. Quietly, and with no little amount of dignity, she moved on.

Thanks, Checkers, for everything.