You know, I really try to be thankful every day for the many, many bountiful blessings I have. A loving, supportive family. An amazing group of friends, the kind who define true friendship. A wonderful life. And an undending supply of stupid people, giving this blog purpose and material.
But today I want to express my thanks for a loyal and true friend I lost this week. His name was Wilson. Wilson was our 14 year old Westie. And on Tuesday, we had to say goodbye. Wilson was my Beloved's pet. So I didn't get to know him until he was well into his golden years. He was a crusty old fucker, alternating between "pet me" and "fuck you." Over the past year and half, since I began "working from home" Wilson would shadow me all day, every day. I knew when he was mad, I knew when he was scared, I knew when he was playing, and I knew when he needed me just to be near him for security. (I'm sure he would argue that it was my security, not his, that was the reason for this.)
Our other dogs are a little perplexed at why the Alpha is missing. My little dog has been especially attentive to my Beloved, seeming to instinctively know that doggie love was just the tonic.
We had known for a while now that the clock was ticking. But over the weekend the hands seemed to be turning rapidly. And by Tuesday, we knew there was no other choice.
We are also very blessed to have the greatest vet. Dr. B, I know you don't read this, but you handled this just right. The right amount of respect. For us. And for Wilson.
Radney Foster (one of my favorite singer songwriters) wrote a lullaby for his son that he would sing on the road each night. I find that the chorus comforts me in times of loss.
"Godspeed little man.
Sweet dreams little man.
Oh my love will fly
to you each night
on angel's wings."
Godspeed, Mr. Wilson.