On 2/9/08, Paul Stenquist, discombobulated, unleashed:

>I sometimes called him "Wilbur." With his droopy eyes and long face,
>he looked like a Wilbur. Marlene, who nursed him through puppydom,
>called him "Wee." My mom -- great, great grandma -- who came to know
>him as both she and he were living their last days,  called him "Old
>Sock," And he dutifully sat by her side as she ate, knowing that she
>would share her meals with him, no matter how hard we tried to
>persuade her otherwise. When he had the opportunity, he would sneak
>into her room and lay at her feet. He loved us all very much, but his
>last and most obvious  love was Grace. He didn't like it when someone
>tried to move him by tugging on his collar, but he let Grace move him
>by tugging on his hair. He followed her as she played and smiled
>contentedly as she rode him, sat on him, and slept on him.
>
>Several months ago, he became ill. He soldiered on, and we did what
>we could to comfort him. But this weekend his burden grew too large
>for even this big-hearted dog to bear, and this morning he went to
>sleep for the last time. Willy was a good dog, and a good dog is one
>of the best things that one can be.
>
>
>http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=3152929

Sad, sad story, lovely tribute, excellent portrait.

--


Cheers,
  Cotty


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||   (O)  |     People, Places, Pastiche
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