He named the dog Chirulin – Read This Story

He named the dog Chirulin

Whenever I visited my grandfather, he always preferred to be alone, rejecting any attempts to engage with others. I decided to change that by introducing him to a small dog I had rescued from the street. He named the dog ‘Chirulin,’ and they quickly became inseparable, enjoying activities together like sunbathing, eating, going for walks, and watching TV.

Recently, my grandfather fell ill, and during his hospital stay, he wrote me a letter outlining how to care for ‘Chirulin’ in case he didn’t make it. He even included his special recipe for the soup he prepares for the dog. In that moment, all I could think about was asking him to write me a recipe for living without him.

He entrusted ‘Chirulin’ to our entire family. When he was discharged from the hospital, we brought ‘Chirulin’ to him. My grandfather hugged the dog tightly and whispered, “We need to hurry and do all the things we’ve left to do together; there’s not much time,” breaking into laughter. He had made a list of activities he wanted to share with his faithful companion.

Seeing the bond between them, it’s evident how much they love each other. To those who say that pets are “just animals,” I would respond: “Animals are a gift for the soul, teaching us tolerance, respect, and love—the kind that unites rather than divides. Loving them teaches us how to truly love.”

The next day, my grandfather put on his old leather hat, one that had seen too many summers, and whistled for Chirulin. The little dog trotted over excitedly, his tail wagging like a flag in the wind. “Alright, boy,” Grandpa said, slipping a crumpled piece of paper into his pocket, “let’s make the most of our time.”

His list was simple but full of meaning. First on it was a visit to the small bakery in town, where he used to buy fresh bread every morning before he shut himself off from the world. The shopkeeper, an old friend he hadn’t spoken to in years, was surprised to see him.

“Look who finally decided to step out of his cave!” she teased, handing him a warm loaf. Grandpa chuckled, breaking a piece off and giving it to Chirulin before taking a bite himself. “It’s been too long,” he admitted.

Next on the list was feeding the ducks at the park. Grandpa and Chirulin sat by the pond, tossing crumbs into the water. As the ducks flocked around, he turned to me. “You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I forgot how peaceful this was. When you get old, you tend to believe the world has nothing left to offer you. But it does—it always does.”

Over the next few weeks, my grandfather and Chirulin crossed off more items on their list. They visited the seaside, where Grandpa let the waves lap at his feet while Chirulin barked at the seagulls. They spent afternoons on the porch, sharing quiet moments. They even went to an old dance hall where, much to my surprise, Grandpa took a few twirls on the floor with a lady who had been eyeing him for years.

But as much as I wanted to believe he had endless time, his body reminded us otherwise. His strength faded. The walks grew shorter. One evening, as Chirulin curled up beside him, Grandpa sighed, “I think I’ve done everything I wanted to. But there’s one more thing left.”

He handed me a small box, his fingers trembling slightly. “Open it when the time comes,” he said.

Two weeks later, the time came. He passed away peacefully in his sleep, with Chirulin by his side.

Through the grief, I remembered the box. Inside, there was another letter—this one meant for me.

“My dear one,

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve gone ahead. But don’t be sad for too long; life is meant to be lived, not mourned. I’ve left you my greatest treasure—my memories, my love, and, of course, Chirulin.

I know you worried about how to live without me. So here is my recipe:

Love deeply. Even when it hurts, even when it’s scary. Love anyway.
Laugh often. The world can be cruel, but laughter will always be your shield.
Forgive. Yourself, others, life itself. Carrying anger is like drinking poison and hoping someone else suffers.
Take walks. Alone, with a friend, with a dog—it doesn’t matter. Just walk, breathe, and remember you’re alive.
Be kind. You never know what silent battles others are fighting.
Don’t be afraid of goodbyes. They’re just another way of saying, ‘I’ll see you in another form.’
Live well, my dear. And take care of Chirulin.

With all my love, Grandpa”

Tears blurred my vision, but I smiled. The sadness would never fully leave, but neither would the love.

Chirulin pawed at my leg, looking up at me with knowing eyes. “Alright, buddy,” I whispered, running a hand over his fur. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Because life, as Grandpa had shown me, was meant to be lived.

If this story touched your heart, share it with someone who needs a reminder to cherish the moments that truly matter. ❤️