Farewell, Wesley Eugene

A year after Adam and I were married, I started to get baby fever. I was wise enough to realize that I wasn't ready for an actual infant, but I needed to scratch that growing maternal itch somehow. We researched local dog breeders and animal shelters, tried to adopt a pair of chihuahuas, looked into some Miniature Pinchers, and debated what kind of dog we wanted to become our first baby.

We decided we wanted a Yorkshire Terrier. Growing up, my family had one and she lived a long, eventful life. Yorkies stay small, don't shed, and are great snugglers.

We went to see a local breeder and after realizing that actual, full-blood Yorkshire Terrier puppies cost $500, we settled on a half breed. Wesley Eugene was half Yorkie and half Brussels Griffon. He was also half price.

When we first brought him home, he weighed right at one pound. He fit into the palm of our hand and Adam carried him around in his shirt pocket, like a furry pocket protector. In the winter, I cut the foot off tube socks and cut armholes in the remaining tube to make him sweaters. My grandmother crocheted can koozies with armholes for Wesley's going out sweaters. 

We were in love. I treated Wesley as if he were an infant. Wesley had his own clothes, and he accompanied me everywhere. When Adam was in grad school, he went to college parties with us, riding in a doggie version of a Baby Bjorn. I had several purses that I would carry and his head just barely poked out the side. I was righteously indignant when I was told I couldn't bring my dog grocery shopping. He went everywhere with me.

Wesley Eugene was like a real, live teddy bear. I carried him like a baby and treated him like one, too. Every year we would host a big birthday party for him and invite all his doggie friends. I'd bake homemade treats for the dogs and encourage each one to wear a party hat. Wesley Eugene has three scrapbooks just of his life.

One year we had to take an emergency trip to Colorado to rescue Adam's parents who had wrecked their car and needed a ride home. We rode back home in Adam's Toyota truck with his mother in the front seat, his dad in the back, and Adam and I rotating driving or backseat about every 100 miles. Wesley came, too, climbing in whatever lap he wanted to and barking at every single motorcycle. He stood at the four corners and was able to mark  his territory in four states that day.

We took him on our trip to Washington, D.C. where we called him Cradle of Independence Wesley. He wore his red, white, and blue koozie sweater for that trip. 

Wesley hated motorcycles and cats and loved to tell our across the street neighbor to get back inside his house. He intimidated postal workers and once made a large, burly FedEx delivery man run for his life because he could hear approaching barking and didn't know it came from a 5 lb. dog.

He was blessed at our Methodist Church three times and one of our former pastors still greets me with questions about Wesley Eugene's health...even before the kids.

Wesley Eugene turned 13 this summer without any fanfare. We have actual human children now, and I put all my energy into organizing child parties and left the dog parties behind. He didn't seem to mind. 

He was kind to the children and tolerated their messing with him a bit. 

Wesley Eugene was a faithful companion for 13 long years. His health has been rapidly declining since this summer and yesterday we had to let him go. 

Wesley Eugene, we love you and you will be missed.

Lost and Found

When Adam and I lived in the TCU area, we developed quite a reputation for rescuing dogs. I can't even tell you how many dogs we caught and returned to their owners.
When we moved to Wedgwood, we had to give that up. One problem is that we never can catch the loose dogs, and the other problem is that we always know who they belong to. It's always the family across the street who have exactly 12 people and 1200 dogs and cats in residence.
This morning was different. Claire and Paul and I were going to go on a walk to walk our dog, Wesley Eugene, and scout for birds. Claire has a National Geographic bird guide, so we were going to identify every bird we saw.
As we were leaving, a little puppy came up to us and was jumping over Wesley. He was playful and friendly and missing his collar. I put him in the backyard for safety. I was going to take him to the pound, assuming that he belonged to our neighbor and thinking I would teach her a lesson.
I decided maybe that wouldn't be the best action, so I rang her doorbell and talked to her instead. It wasn't her dog.
So Claire and Paul and I went up and down the block ringing doorbells, asking if anyone knew the dog we had found. It was a sweet dog, and Claire named him Potatohead.
No one knew Potatohead, so we decided to go ahead and take him to the pound. I know what they do there, but it's a central location, and I was hoping the owner would call the pound to collect him.
On the way to the pound, I called Adam. He encouraged me to make flyers instead and post them around the block. So we detoured to Petsmart to buy the dog some cheap dog food so he could avoid eating Wesley's fancy stuff.
When we were checking out, I was visiting with the cashier, and she suggested I speak to the employees at the back of the store that run a dog shelter on site. I did and found out that the dog had a chip implanted in the back of his neck that told his name, his owner's name, address, and various phone numbers. So even though the dog didn't have a collar or tags, we were able to find his owners.
We returned the dog to his owners. His name is really Marley, but he also answers to "Potatohead." Apparently Marley is owned by a family with a three-year old who had been crying all morning because the dog had escaped.
It was a happy ending, and I believe an educational one for all of us. I learned that a little patience and mercy can make someone else's day. The kids learned that every animal has a home where he belongs, and home is always the best place to be.