A Dog's Life or is the Pope right?

2006-2015
Rest in Peace
Sir Willow aka Willie

Growing up, we weren't a "dog family."  My parents, having grown up in the Depression, deemed a dog a luxury.  When I was 5 or 6, we lived in a country parsonage in Western Oklahoma and a stray German Shepard came to live with us.   Our section of the county was popular with city folk abandoning their unwanted dogs.  This dog became my sister and mine constant companion, despite my parents reluctance.  Then one day the church treasurer came by to pay my preacher dad and this German Shepard had the treasurer cornered on the porch for over an hour.  The next day, a old black man from town came to get our best friend and take him to his new home as a junk yard dog.  "We's like 'em mean."  I am convinced that dog would have died for my sister and I.  I suspect he would have killed for us too.

I went dogless until I bought my first house in 1980.  I got a Beagle pup.  The Late Great John Garfield was his full name.   Just happened to be the song I was listening to as I was trying to think of a name.  I had Garfield for 8 years.  Once, he and the neighbor's dog got out; the neighbors dog was hit by a car and killed.  When my neighbors found their dog, Garfield, as any best friend, as standing guard over the dog's lifeless body.

On another occasion, I was out of town on business.  My dad came over to feed Garfield and make sure he had water.  He called me one night to tell me someone had dumped little female dog in my back yard.  When I got home a week later, my neighbor, Roy came over to tell my about my backyard visitor.  Roy laughed and told me, "Garfield's front paws haven't touched the ground in two weeks."

After Garfield, I moved a lot, lived in apartments.  I never thought that was the right environment for a dog.  Dog's need space to run, things to chase, ground to dig.

Chaco, painted the Christmas before he died.

Eleven years ago I met and married my wife.  She had two Labrador Retrievers:  Chaco, a Chocolate Lab and Kaila, a Black Lab.  Two of the smartest dogs I had ever known.  Chaco warmed to me from the start as I'd scratch is tail bone until his heart was content.  Chaco was a gentle soul.  When we first got Willie, he schooled him well.

At our wedding, we feared Chaco had a stroke or other malady.  Turned out he was drunk from everyone putting their drink cups on the ground,  A few years later, Chaco developed an inoperable tumor on his spleen.  It would not be the last time I had to sit on the floor of the vet's office and say goodbye.

Kaila didn't warm to me, but damn she was smart.  One night before Pat and I were married, Pat's Shetland Pony coliced.  I agreed to stay, and we took 2 hour shifts checking on Speedy.  At about 4 am, Kaila woke me and sure enough Speedy was down.  Kaila knew something was wrong.

Painting of Kaila and Willie taking a break.

When we first bought our home in Corrales, we had no front gates.  Chaco and Kaila never left the property, until that spring when the acecia ditches filled with water.  Sure enough, Kaila couldn't resist taking a swim.  Frosty, our local animal control officer caught her and off to jail she went.  I had to go to the police station and pay an $85 fine and proceeded to the dog pound.  Kaila, who never was fond of me was never so glad to see me.  She ran and jumped into the pickup, sat close to me shaking from her incarceration.  She was now my buddy too.

Isabel with the newly arrived Willie.

"'I want a Labrodoodle,'" Patricia said, "and I found one in Amarillo, we're meeting in Santa Rosa to get him."  I can tell Billy Joe Shaver, there was one good reason to go back to Amarillo.  Thus Willie arrived.  His head was too big. His paws were huge.  When he got excited, he'd pee.

Willie loved to play with Chaco and Kaila.  He too was fond of swimming in the irrigation ditch water.  Willie is one of the best Frisbee dogs around.  Willie has withstood several major health issues, 3 major surgeries, all of switch he handled with grace and gentleness.  He was also a stud, fathering 3 litters.  His son, Mojo is still with us and our Rez Dog, Charlie.

Willie and son, Mojo

Kaila developed cancer in her jaw.  It was hard on my wife as she had birthed Kaila.  Kaila thought Patricia her mother.  When we had to put Kaila down, Willie laid in the drive all night and into the morning waiting for her return.

Willie recently had surgery to remove a polyp from his colon.  We dodged a bullet when it was benign.  Yet he continued to have difficulties with pooping and peeing.  This past Friday, we took him in again only to discover he has bladder cancer.  The prognosis is weeks to just a few months.

As I sit here and ponder all the moments with Willie, there are so many.  When my parents were alive and in the nursing home, we'd take Willie and Mojo with us.  Almost every patient in the home wanted to pet Willie; the joy he brought those folks was heartwarming to see.  "What kind of dog is he?" Or the first time we bred Willie, we locked him and the bitch up on the family room.  The next morning our daughter Isabel questioned the presence of all the "goo" on the carpet.  That carpet came up the next week.  In the heat of summer, Willie sneaks off to jump in the shallow horse tank to cool off.  He begs carrots from Janet, our horse boarder.  When you get the leashes out he gets so excited to go for a walk.  He takes his own leash in his mouth and walks himself.

Willie once saved our lives.  My son had left a gas burner on filling the kitchen with gas.  Willie went to Patricia's bed side and barked and barked until she got up to fine natural gas smell filling the house.

Last night, our vet Dr. Helper came to the house.  Willie always got so nervous when we took him to the vet that he'd shake like a leaf.  We didn't want his last moments on this earth to be filled with that anxiety.  We all surrounded Willie, petted and held him as he passed.  It was time and I think he knew it too.

I guess what I remember most his just his gentle presence.  Always there to pet; snuggle up to you in the bed; greet you at the gate, tail wagging.  Damn, he'll be missed so.