Willie was about 3 or 4 years old when I adopted him. I had some reservations about how well an adult dog and I would bond, but Willie removed all doubt from my mind on the ride home in the car. He had been sitting on the back seat for about 15 minutes when he quietly stood and stretched out his front legs so that he could stand on the console. I thought he was trying to get a better view, but instead he just rested his head on my shoulder and sighed. So much for my concerns about bonding.

Willie was such a joyful little boy, always curious, always up for an adventure –a new dog park, a ride in the car, a walk with his canine friend down the street, and especially a trip to Pennsylvania to visit his “Uncle Ken and Aunt Marie” who had woods where he could run with his canine cousins and sniff to his heart’s content (and sniff at all those rest stops along the trip!). He was so sweet and gentle, but he also made it clear he had a job to do--protect me and protect his turf. For the first year, this included barking at anyone or anything moving toward us (even if they were a block away) and attacking mail that came through the chute in the front door. One day he chewed up half of the phone bill before I could get to him, then he looked at me and glowed with pride, as if to say “See what a good job I did? I killed it!”

Willie loved long walks, soft fleecy toys, broccoli and cantaloupe (and his treats, of course!). He also liked to walk very slowly under the Christmas tree to give himself a gentle back scratch. A woman’s long chiffon skirt worked equally well, if the woman would oblige him by standing still. He was terrified of storms, but would calm down immediately if I sang “Amazing Grace” to him very slowly. This song was so effective in soothing him that the staff at the vet’s office sang to him once when he awoke crying after surgery. He calmed down and rested quietly.

Willie was diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis in January, although the doctors had suspected several months earlier that it was the cause of his excessive panting. The end came less than two months later, without warning. One minute he was hopping around, smiling and letting me know he was eager to check out the yard before we went to bed; minutes later he was struggling to breathe. The emergency vet gave him oxygen and tried to stabilize him, but there was no hope. He passed away quietly. I’m so grateful I could be there for him at the end. I wish he could have lived longer, but he left so many happy memories and such a spirit of love behind, I feel lucky to have had him in my life for those few short years.

Gail Fleming


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