When Christine shared this story with us, we knew our community needed to hear it too. It’s the kind of story that made all of our hearts a little heavier, but also a little fuller.
This is a story about friendship, about love, and about what it means to leave something behind that truly matters. A neighbour named John made a quiet, lasting impact that will help pets and people in our community for years to come.
We’re honoured to share this with you.
John and Chili
Some neighbours are simply people who live beside each other. And then there are neighbours who become part of your family, a piece of your everyday life.
I moved into my house in 1999, and John welcomed me with curiosity and a huge smile. His laugh echoed through the yards, announcing his presence long before you could see him.
When I brought Chili home, John looked over the fence and came over to say hi. A new life on the block was something to be celebrated. It didn’t take long before John was stopping by with treats for Chili. A small piece of bacon from breakfast or a little bite of sausage from dinner would often make its way over the fence.
Chili was my constant companion. When I climbed the large gap between our properties, he would jump up and follow me every time. It became part of our routine. I’d pop over to see John while he worked in the garden or pulled dandelions from his perfect lawn. Chili would settle under the maple tree, watching us quietly.
Eventually, John decided to fix that tricky climb between our yards. He cemented some stones together to make steps. A path to a great friendship was literally built right there.
After that, Chili and John were like two kids with a secret clubhouse. They had their own meeting time and everything. John started out with scraps, but soon he was making full meals just for Chili.
One day, John called me and said, “Let Chili out.” He hung up, went into the backyard, and called his name.
“Chili!”
Chili ran along the fence and straight up the new steps. There was John, waiting with a bowl of food. It didn’t take long for Chili to figure out that 5:15 pm was John time. Around 5:00 pm, Chili would start dancing at the door, asking to be let out.
If I let him out early, he would wait patiently by John’s door. When that door opened, Chili would burst with excitement. If you know boxers, you know it’s not just the tail that wags. His whole body moved like a joyful wave.
John became Chili’s official dog father. He made a bowl of food for Chili every single day. He never missed a day.
One evening, I let Chili out and noticed he was gone longer than usual. I found him sitting outside John’s door. The bowl was there, but something felt off. I brought Chili home, and he came reluctantly. When I offered him his own food, he gave me a look that said, “This isn’t the same.”
John wasn’t feeling well. He stayed in bed more, and I began bringing him soup, tea, and anything else I could. Chili came with me each time. He would sit as close to John as possible, letting him reach over to pet him or accept a kiss on the hand.
We spent time in the kitchen or living room when John was still able to come downstairs. When he couldn’t manage the stairs anymore, I helped out around the house and sat with him while Chili kept him company.
At one point, we started talking about the future. John never married and didn’t have children or nearby family. We talked about what he cared about most. It was clear how much he loved Chili and animals in general. I suggested he consider the Peterborough Humane Society. With the plans for the new building and everything it would offer, it felt like a fitting place to support. A place where his love for animals could continue making a difference.
John allowed me to bring in some extra help during those final weeks. On Saturday, March 23, someone from the VON called to check in. I told her what was happening. She called an ambulance. John didn’t argue when they arrived. I quickly brought Chili home before heading to the hospital with him.
John passed away at 7:44 am on March 24.
That evening, around 5:00 pm, Chili started doing his usual dance. I took him next door and let us into John’s kitchen. I gave him a biscuit from John’s stash. He sniffed around the house, searching. Eventually, he came back down and sat beside me.
Grief is like that. It lingers in the quiet moments.
Chili started acting strangely not long after. I thought it was just sadness, but he didn’t seem to bounce back. The vet confirmed it was liver failure. On April 8, 2024, during the solar eclipse, I took Chili for one last hike.
The next day, the vet came to the house and we said goodbye.
I like to believe they are together now. That John is still taking care of Chili, just like he did when they lived next door to me.
The greatest gift we can offer in this life is love. And that is exactly what John gave. His gift to the Peterborough Humane Society is a reflection of that love. Love for animals who ask for so little and give so much in return. His legacy will help others find their person, just like Chili found John.
– Christine J.
We are so grateful to Chili’s family for sharing this story with us. Seeing the love and support within our community, for animals and for each other, means more than words can say.
Planning a legacy gift to the Peterborough Humane Society is a meaningful way to make a lasting difference. If you would like to discuss including PHS in your estate plans or have any questions about legacy giving, please reach out to our team at 705-745-4722.
Your future support can ensure loving care for animals and strengthen the bond between people and pets for years to come.