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Location: Coventry
Joined: Jun 2005
Posts: 966
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Willow The Dog
I don't usually post here. But today I have to:
Early in the Millenium, not long after I got a flat, the daughter of a friend and work colleague showed me a handfull of fluff. Black fur, feet three sizes too big, huge watery brown eyes and a hooter that could inhale small children. I only wanted a small dog, for the flat and for companionship. And this was clearly a very small dog. She fitted my pocket. And more importantly she fitted my heart. She came home with me, and over the months and years she became Willow-The-Dog.
In all those years there have been three occasions when we've been apart for more than a day. On the first, a New Year event, I left her at a kennels. She came back with a cut foot and a Shetland Pony...don't ask. After that, on the other two occasions she has stayed with people she knows and loves, and who I trust implicitly.
Apart from those occasions, a matter of five days or so, we've been together always. We've walked together, talked together. We've travelled together, camped together.
We've holidayed together, swam together...she's better than me at that... we've spent our lives together. She's become, through the medium of mt blog, a well-known and well loved puppydog. She is my companion. My muse. My straight-man. My sounding board. And my best friend.
I'm not sorry. I hurt, but I can never be sorry about the 12 years we had together. Thing is with 4-legged friends, they have a short shelf life, they have to pack a lot of living, a lot of loving, into that short time. That's why they wear out. So no, don't be sorry. She's been my muse, my companion, my best friend for over a decade. She's kept me insane. I would not have it any other way. It is going to hurt for a while. It will be hard not to save 1/2 of my biscuits for her, part of my breakfast. So it is going to hurt, like a *******, for the longest time. But I have my memories, my writing, my photos, and the love of everyone who knew her to support me.
You've shared with her many joys. Her snottle, forever beekling into places no snottle is meant to beekle. You've laughed, not at her but with her, when she's been attacked variously by ducks, geese, pigeons, rabbits and her own reflection. You've helped out more than either of us expected or deserved when she was poorly. She is as much yours as she is mine. But...
There is one job I cannot share with you. One job I would never allow anyone else to do. One job I knew I would have to do. One job I don't want.
Because we've ALWAYS gone to new places together. We've always had adventures together. Seen new sights. Smelled new smells. Heard new sounds. Together. And now she is going somewhere on her own. Her last journey is one I can't share. I can only follow so far. I can sit with her, as the road gets rough. But the last few steps she is going to have to take on her own. But she is Willow-The-Dog. A brave girl. A handsome girl. A Good Girl.