Rachel Dachel

I was 16 the summer we picked her out. I don't remember how it came about that we would get a dog, but I remember that we were getting a puppy! It was a rare time that my sister and I were both with my Mom for the summer and we picked her out together. All I remember is a large fence behind a warehouse and walking back behind the building to where the puppies were. She was a big ball of black fur, you could hardly see her feet. I don't know how we decided on her either, but we did and we took her home. I imagine that we played with her for the rest of the day. She was mostly chow so she had that colored tongue and I imagine I loved letting her lick my face with her puppy breath. How we came up with Rachel for a name, I don't know either. I know Mom came up with it and that was the end of it. Rachel the black chow, forever known as Rachel Dachel or Good Dog.

And she was a good dog. She was a great dog. Somewhat of an escape artist though. She could figure out how to climb the highest fences and escape a seemingly escape-proof yard. She was known to chase after things on a camping trip and once got out and attacked the neighbors rabbits. That was not fun. I remember a time she killed a bird, and Mom tied the bird around her neck to teach her not to do it again. I cried and cried at the punishment, both for the bird and for Rachel.

She had 3 or 4 litters of puppies, all balls of fur just like her. She was fiercely protective. She didn't like strangers, and even less men. She grew up in a household full of women, my sister, me and my Mom, on the rare occasion we were all there at once. She was Mom's companion through all the years she was single and remains her loyal companion today.

But today, Rachel has trouble getting up. Her joints have erroded. She is forgetful and can't hear. Her sight is failing also. And so today, she will go to a place where she is no longer in pain and she will remember the good days.

RIP Rachel Dachel. We will miss you.