When my wife and I moved to Indiana four years ago, Rusty was one of our first visitors. We so thoroughly enjoyed his company that we welcomed him into our home permanently.

The three of us were nearly inseparable that first summer, sitting on the patio enjoying dinner, drinks and each other’s company. Rusty grew up to be a sturdy, handsome fellow with strong, thin legs and a rock-solid upper body.

Rusty wasn’t a feral cat, a pet rock or a guinea pig given to us as an ill-conceived gift; he was the first grill my wife and I owned together. Unfortunately, a series of debilitating injuries recently befell him, forcing us to part ways with our longtime charcoal-burning chum.

Although the years began to take their toll on him, four-year-old Rusty seemed as strong as ever on a warm afternoon earlier this summer. While enjoying the day in the backyard with my wife and dogs, I decided to fire Rusty up and let him have some fun too.

As I took the last steak from Rusty, one of his front legs gave way, causing him to lose balance, tip forward and nearly knock the medium-rare slab of beef from the plate in my hand. I hurriedly set the plate on the table and rushed to his aid.

I propped up the missing piece of his rusted-through leg with a nearby rock and closed his lid. I fought back tears as his weathered wooden handle nearly broke off in my hand. I solemnly walked away, realizing this was Rusty’s last meal.

I knew I was to blame for my pal’s demise. Years of neglect, rain and snow transformed him from trusty to Rusty. But, realizing that second-guessing wouldn’t restore him to his original condition, I chose to remember the good things — like the tender, juicy barbecued ribs we cooked together. Or those times we watched my dogs chase squirrels around the yard.

Following weeks of mourning, I decided it was time to move on. After poring through Angie’s List reports on various home-improvement stores in the area, I purchased a new grill last week. Luckily, Rusty doesn’t have ears. If he did, he’d hear me singing the praises of the unparalleled awesomeness of his replacement.

But he hasn’t gone too far. For the time being he rests peacefully behind a tree alongside my driveway. I can’t sever our ties just yet. After all, even in his current state of disrepair, Rusty’s still a better cook than my wife. And you can even tell her I said so.