A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself.
Josh Billings, 19th Century humorist
When Bill-The-Affenpinscher and his human mother, our daughter, moved in with us in February of 2007, he was incorrigible. His twelve pounds of incorrigibleness was filled with bites, barks, peeing, and consumption of socks, underwear, money, all types of paper, cough drops, leaves, staples and only God knows what else. He was five when he entered our home and was lucky to remain alive for oh-so many reasons over these last seven years. His cuteness saved his demise many times.
He’s been spoiled on occasion as his heart has softened over the years for his Nana, Paps and Mama. He always loved his mother, even though his personality and snaps were not held at bay because she was his mother. If he was scared from sleep, he snapped to protect himself.
We had family and good friends visit from out-of-town and over time he grew to love all of them as a mutual trust was built. Sure, the occasional pair of underwear would disappear and tissues, receipts and cough drops were stolen from purses, but those guest bedroom and bathroom doors soon were kept closed and purses were always put up high. He welcomed his frequent overnight friends and family with happy barks and stubby tail wagging. They returned the favor with cautious scratches behind his ear.
Toys. He loves his toys and has favorites. They are usually the newest toy with the alive squeaker in it. There are baskets full of small rhinos, lions, cows, monkeys and other critters around the house that sit near his multiple beds. I keep a stack of them on my desk that we constantly play the game of “Here, buddy, want to take this present to your Mama?” Over and over and over…. He takes the toy, waits for me to go with him and we present the present to Mama in her bedroom.
In the spring of 2013 he was operated on, not to remove a sock this time, but because of severe weight loss and overall ill health. The vet found a tumor on his liver that he said was set upon it like a grand gift for the taking with no veins or arteries in the way. Doc said he’d never seen one presented like that before. It was removed and he regained his health. He was back to barking, peeing on legs of furniture and chasing small children and grown men from the front porch just by his small presence at the window next to the door.
This past April he got sick again and was diagnosed with inoperable cancer with up to three weeks to live. “If he lives three months, I’ll write a paper about him.”
Today is September 7, 2014 and he’s still here. He’s not half the dog he used to be, though.
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Today’s date: September 11th 2014.
This blog is incomplete. I edited some bits of it but will end it with this notation instead.
Billy was put to rest this morning. Last night was a tough one for him and his Mama. Without too many details it was evident his time had come and his Mama made the hardest decision of her life. As a family, we took him to see Dr. Bob. Billy was a hero to the end.
He gave us life lessons through this last battle with cancer that proved to me that giving and receiving unconditional love can help get you through the toughest of trials. God’s plan played out well and we are grateful for the extra time we had with this wonder of a dog. We thank Him.
Rest In Peace Sir William Wallace
You lived up to your namesake and you loved us well, as we loved you.
You are already missed.