Last night, I lost a member of my family. He was an anomaly of a dog and wasn't bashful in the least in letting you know it. I think that my own dog's short experience with him best shows who we all grew to love and will forever miss.

When Winry first entered the garage-entrance door of my parent's home, she was greeted with the usual frenzy that I had become accustomed to over the years. Winry, however, was not granted such a luxurious warning. She was first met with a rounder, louder and far more obnoxious version of herself. She didn't have much time to react to little Buddy before she had to deal with a boxer three times her size with a surplus of energy and bony legs that moved like a broken windmill. That and his head that consisted of a slack-jawed, snaggle-toothed smile was what elicited Winry to have the usual reaction that most people had when meeting Chopper for the first time: A lot of yelping and a sprint for low-bearing cover.

Over the next few hours, she cautiously avoided him until she started to realize that Buddy was very much the most diligent and rough little nugget to have as a playtime friend. A smaller dog was in no way a guarantee of a mild-mannered playtime. It was then that the friendship between Chopper and Winry began. He would bark at Buddy for playing too roughly in defense of the young new player in the living room arena. He would (not so sneakily) follow her from room to room like a watchful uncle who showed just the right amount of caregiving. He would share his already too small bed with her. He was now being the sweetheart of a dog that I'd always known.

To the untrained eye, one might say that he was needy or always craving the attention of whomever would give it to him but in that assumption you would be sorely mistaken. He was, and always had been, a giver. It's all he's ever known and he was a little too good at showing it; particularly when you found yourself with a dog that could barely fit in a recliner chair, suddenly sharing that recliner chair with you and looking around at everyone like he was merely snuggling up for the end of a long day.

By the end of Winry's two week stay with my family, it was clear that Chopper would be the one that she'd miss the most.

   

And she will not be alone in that feeling.

   

I'm going to tell stories about you until forever,    Chopper.

                                                                                 Chip-Chop.

                                                                                Chopstick.

                                                                                       Chopping Cart.