He was the strangest and most untimely gift. Untimely because I had just gotten my acceptance letters from the colleges I applied to and would be leaving home in 3 short months when my stepfather came home with a tiny beautiful puppy and said to me, "I brought you a congratulations gift". He was like a stuffed animal with exaggerated features: dark soft fur, big small feet, doe eyes and floppy ears to boot. It was strange because our family had tried once before to be pet owners and that situation ended terribly. For years we asked about the origins of Chunk and for years my stepfather skirted the subject.
***It was a rainy dark morning in March and the old man was at a fast food drive through after his truck driving shift ended when he saw little baby Chunk tied to a homeless person's cart unattended in the rain.***
Chunk was such a wonderful and warm being. He was the glue that kept our insane family together. He was the only thing we all loved no matter how much we hated each other. He loved beer, bacon, blueberry pancakes, long walks at sunset and short swims on hot summer days and when you wrestled with him, he would always let you win. As a puppy, he had countless admirers offering to buy him, and when he got older his massive ominous presence struck unwarranted fear in many. Since I went off to college my brother was the one who trained and bonded deeply with Chunky. Whenever evil stirred inside the home, he would just go out back to the garage and hang out with the Chunkster. Chunk never judged you; except early on when my brother got him stoned, Chunk had a bad trip and would have to only see a bag of weed to give you the most telling disapproving glare before walking away dramatically.
My parents, like a lot of Mexicans I know (I did not say ALL Mexicans so before you go bat shit I'm not talking about you) have a detached relationship with animals. They keep their dogs outside, don't bathe them with special flea soap, feed them table scraps, never take them on walks, nor take them to the vet let alone get them vaccinated. My family was not that extreme, but Chunky was not allowed inside the house for a long time. A rule my brother and I frequently violated. In his old age, mom's heart softened and she let Chunk move in. He slept in the laundry room and was allowed limited living room and solarium privileges. For the past 4 years we all enjoyed the warmth of his presence in the home. But recently, Chunk started losing control of his bladder and was relieving himself inside the house. This resulted in his banishment to the backyard, which I argued was a bad idea. In a matter of weeks Chunk's condition worsened to the point where he was completely incontinent. Baby Bro bought him some diapers and he was allowed to move back inside the house. Last night my brother called to tell me that Chunk was not doing well. He took him to the vet to fix him up but his kidneys were failing and he did not have much time left. As he left for his graveyard shift he hugged the Chunk of love and told him, "I will see you tomorrow morning buddy". My mother called me at 6am today to tell me that Chunky left us last night in his sleep. Tomorrow morning never came.
Farewell my clumsy King, you brought nothing but joy to our lives.
February 1995-November 2009
February 1995-November 2009