Moose says I shouldn't overly identify, but it's especially sad to me that progressive radio talk show goddess Stephanie Miller lost her big dumb Saint Bernard Chester this morning to congestive heart failure. ("Dumb" is Steph's word, not mine. She lovingly ackowledged Chester's mental limitations. Let's just say the big guy was no fox terrier in the brains department.) We feel bad for Steph because we know how she dotes on her dogs. Moose heard her talking just yesterday on the air about how she drives an SUV, despite her concerns for the environment, in order to accommodate her family of large canines. We know there's a gaping hole in her family this morning, and we send her big licks and condolences to help fill it.
I find myself wondering about Chester's disease. Had he been sick for awhile? Had he been taking beta-blockers and diuretics, like me? Had his appetite changed as the meds made his tummy feel funny? Did Chester sleep more and play less? Did he kiss his mom but refuse to take walks? Did he lay down beside her last night and just fail to wake up this morning? Chester, did it hurt, your broken heart? Did it hurt in the end when you slipped away from your mom and your pack? For your sake and theirs and, yes, mine, too, I hope not, Chester. I wish you well on your journey, big guy. Dumb as you might have been, we know you'll find your way home.
Steph fans might want to know that you can make donations in Chester's memory to the Saint Bernard Rescue Foundation.
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