Willow's Epitaph

Willow left us September 20, 2019.  Twp months ago today.  Here are some random thoughts about my little babe.

(opps!  If you are re-reading this you will see that Willow last living dater is a month earlier than I said.  How time flies!)

Everything in this house reminds me of Willow.

Willow effected our living habits and routines very much so.  We are going through a readjustment period now.

For instance, when I pick up the barber tools she yipped with joy.  She loved for Anna to cut my hair.  While I was being barbered on the deck, Willow would run back and forth up the stairs.   Go down to the ground and sniff around and then come up and check  too see what we are doing and go back downstairs.   No more.

When we went to Costco we all ways bought a roasted chicken for $4.99 and when we got home Anna would strip the chicken and the Willow-Edible. not edible-to-us parts was put into a canister and mixed with her dog food for the next few days

When we first adopted Willow she was about one year old.  Our back yard was crowded with furry little animals such as chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits.  She ate them all.  After so many years the furry little vermin learned not to get close to our back yard.   What they did not know that Willow has aged in the past couple of years and now she was feeble and blind.  She still enjoyed the outdoors but prefer to go out when I could go out and bodyguard her.

Also when we first adopted her at the Atlanta Humane Society one of the volunteers told us she has been returned twice.  She sort of insinuated that 3 times and she  is out.

I think that is because about a year ago, at night, in the dark, I took her for last bathroom walk  for the night and a big dog came up out of the dark and tried to get her to play.  Willow snapped at it.  I'm sure her point of view was that she was blind and she was too old to play.  Then the big dog leap on her growling and snapping.  And I jumped on the dog growling and swinging fists.  I hit the dog in his face several good knocks and finally it ran off.

When we first adopted Willow she was a runner.  and very lively and full of energy.   Anytime the gate was left opened she would run free.  I could not catch her.  I just had to sit down and wait until she smelled everything in every yard near by and disappear for a while.   When she got good and damn ready she returned on her own.  My only fear with her running across yards and streets is that I didn't think she was that wise on how traffic operated.... like could run over her and smash her.

I think Willow was an excellent human body-language reader.  If we were discussing whether to go someplace or stay there she would get in a position where her view point she could see both of us and our interactions and facial expressions.  Sometimes She knew what we would decide what we were going to do before we did.  If she came to the conclusion we were leaving she would walk back to her sleeping area.  Sometimes if it was "iffy" and we "might include her, she would whine and do her little dance.

If she saw that one of us was upset or hurt physically she would lick us, in the wounded spot and console us.  I think sometimes she knew her saliva had a healing ensign.

Once before daylight she and I was running.  She was wearing he leash.  I tripped on a little blue embedded road mark and fell with a smack.  My hand, leg, and face was bleeding.  When I hit the pavement I think I let go of the leash.  Normally, that would be an excellent time for her to take off running.  But she stayed by me, trembling.  After I calmed her down she started licking me with her medicine.

In her last six months when I took her out for a bathroom use I had to help her down and up our steps going to the back yard.

After she died for weeks the little furry critters still stayed away.  Then I suppose her particular smell went away and now I see chipmunks and squirrels in the yard again.

I still sense her presence in the house.  And I even hear her collar jingle, or maybe it is my imagination.


Willow was a diabetic.  We gave her two insulin shots a day.   I think she knew the shots were good for her.

She is the last of our line of hairy best friends.  I am too old to outlive another one.   We loved her and  have fond memories we will miss her deeply.

Her insulin, vet sugar level checks, boarding fees and misc now probably adds up to over two grand a year.  Financially,  Willow absence is almost like getting a raise.