A tribute to my grandfather on Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve was always a special day when my grandfather Chet was alive. The whole extended family would gather at his modest house. He’d have it decorated for the holiday, complete with lights strung up in the kitchen ceiling. We always arrived early so I could help him prepare my favorite potato pancakes, which he made just for me. Even at a young age, I knew it was a special gesture on his part.
My grandpa and I shared a love of animals, and he instilled in me the importance of kindness to all creatures. My first memory is from when I was two or three years old. I was petting his dog Jake as my grandpa softly talked to me about how to treat dogs gently. I took his instruction seriously.
Grandpa Chet’s love for animals extended far beyond dogs. He had a birdfeeder in the backyard which was always full, especially in the winter. He couldn’t stand the thought of the birds or squirrels going hungry.
Dogs were his biggest love, though. As I grew older, I’d sometimes help him prepare his dog’s meals. They were always elaborate. He instructed me to add pita bread, torn up in a specific way, and a little liver sausage. I tried to argue that the dinner’s add-ons weren’t very healthy, but his argument won out. “She likes them!”
Grandpa Chet often said, “What’s the point of having a dog, if you can’t be good to her.”
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My grandfather died of brain cancer in 2000. As his health was failing, he made sure a wonderful home was lined up for his beloved dog Lady, and he had me practice making potato pancakes with him to ensure the recipe didn’t leave with him. Before he died, he gave me the yellow bowl that we always used for making them. I take it out with care each year and make them the way he taught me.
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Last December, we adopted our dog Rex, who had previously been a street dog in Mexico. We flew out to get him and made the long drive back with him to Minnesota. By special coincidence, our arrival home was on Christmas Eve. I couldn’t help but think how happy my grandpa would have been to see Rex welcomed into our home on what was always our special day together. I can only imagine the treats he’d have given him.
This year, I’ll be getting out the yellow bowl and carrying on my grandfather’s tradition. Taking over the taste-testing role will be Rex, and a wonderful new addition: Harvey.
We have been fostering Harvey since June. He’s approaching fifteen years old, and we recently made the decision with Harvey’s rescue group that it’s in his best interest to stay with us forever. Harvey has a home, just in time for Christmas. I sure wish Harvey and my grandpa could meet. I know they would both be crazy about each other.
My grandfather lived a simple life, and he was not a wealthy man. But of the countless hours we spent together, I don’t remember a single time when he was anything other than gentle and kind. He taught by example, and left behind a legacy of compassion. I can’t imagine a better way to be remembered.
In memory of Mike Brown, a gentleman of a dog who passed away this week. Several years ago, my mom headed out to shop for a Christmas tree and was drawn to visit the nearby humane society. She came home with a tree to decorate for the holiday… and a new dog. Mike was named after a family friend we all adore, and incredibly loved by my parents.
Rest easy, sweet guy. We will miss you a lot.
Mike Brown