I've resisted talking about this here on the BBS for the last few weeks mainly because it's been difficult to process the emotions involved, but my family dog, Chewie, passed away on October 2nd, the day after his 16th birthday. I'd expected this for a couple of years, honestly, as he got older and slowed down and really when I started to notice the jet black hair on his face going gray. (Reunited, September 2011) I saw him last Christmas and made sure to spend as much time with him as I could, but being that I'm in California and my family is in D.C., I obviously was unable to be there when my parents informed us all that the end was near. I spent the whole day waiting for news and just clicking through old pictures like these: We all loved Chewie dearly; he was a great dog and an even better friend to all of us. I'm due to go back home this Christmas and I'm bringing my girlfriend with me to meet my family for the first time. It's a big step - a wonderful step - but part of me feels just awful because I know the little guy won't be there to come scampering up to me when I walk in through the foyer of our house, stare at me through his nearly-blind eyes and wonder just who the hell I am until he gets close enough to smell me and realize, as he always did, "George is home!" Anyway. This is one of the last photos I took with Chewie at the end of 2013, which I jokingly titled "Shock and awwwww": It took sixteen years to get from this first photo, taken on a chintzy Kodak disposable camera: ...to this last photo in July of this year, on an iPhone 5 which my brother sent me: Those years flew by but they were great years. Rest in peace, Chewie. Good boy.