Today our dog, Woody, died very unexpectedly. He was 8 years old. A Rottie-Shepherd mix with a heart of gold and a quirky personality, he will be sorely missed and fondly remembered. He was a solid and vetted member of this family and the rest of us are deeply saddened tonight by his sudden and untimely passing. The house seems empty as are all of our hearts.
I can still remember the first time I laid eyes on Woody. My wife and I were making the rounds at the local Animal Control shelter looking for a dog that would fit in with our growing and hectic family. My wife was actually drawn to a different dog at first. He was jumping up and down, barking like there was no tomorrow. I said, "uh, no.... not that one." and then I saw Woody. He was less than a year old. Calmly sitting in the pen, intelligent eyes looking back at mine; head slightly cocked to the side. Yeah. He sucked me right in.
It wasn't until we got him home and the anesthesia from his, um, "fix" wore off that we realized we had a real live wire on our hands. At the time, we lived in a three-level townhouse and that dog would start from the ground floor and tear up the stairs -all the way to the top floor bedroom- bounce off the bed, tear back down the stairs to the bottom floor and ricochet off the couch only to repeat the whole maneuver again. Crazy. And that was only his inside antics.
Take Woody outside and show him a Frisbee or a tennis ball -any kind of ball for that matter- and the game was on. The dog was focused on that ball or frisbee... nothing else mattered. Some of his mid-air catches were downright breath-taking.
And it didn't take us long to realize that Woody LOVED to swim too. He was like a big furry fish in the water. He would swim and swim and swim and swim.
Once we moved to our next house and our two children started getting older and bigger, we saw the patience and understanding that Woody had with them. They would pull his ears, try to hop on his back, and attempt to dress him up in all sorts of costumes. When Woody was really annoyed, he let the kids know with a menacing snarl. Not that it ever stopped our kids. And much to Woody's credit, he never went further than that menacing snarl. He understood that kids would be kids.
It only took a couple of times for you to be around Woody before you really appreciated what a fine dog he was. For as goofy and hyper as he acted, underneath was a true friend and a thoughtful companion. His facial expressions were sometimes so human it made you pause and wonder just what he was thinking. And as he got older and calmed down a little, we all enjoyed being able snuggle with him and scratch his tummy and watch him act all goofy in appreciation.
Woody definitely had a love-hate relationship with our other dog and our cat -at least during daylight hours. At night, you could find all three animals snuggled up together. In our bed, of course, hogging all the good sleep real estate.
Woody loved to run and play ball and tug-of-war and he was fiercely protective of his backyard domain when he saw a squirrel or two threatening to intrude. He had a bark that would scare the meanest burglar but he was a real love-muffin at heart.
I miss him so much already.
The hardest part of losing him is just how quickly he left us. He collapsed at home, was rushed to the vet and, less than two hours later, he was gone. Turns out he had a cyst or tumor in his heart and, this particular day, it just failed him. Up until then he ran like a horse and played like there was no tomorrow. And now it feels like there really is no tomorrow.
I'm glad he went fast and with relatively little pain and suffering but we're all still in shock at how sudden and fast it all went down. If only I would have known that this past morning was the last time I'd see him alive... I could've given him an extra hug and reminded him how much he was loved. I think he knew that anyway, but I guess it would've been more for my piece of mind.
Our young children -especially my son- are devastated. Knowing how hard it all is for me to accept, I can only imagine how difficult it is for them. And to see the tears and pain in their eyes only makes my heart ache more. And then there's my poor wife who had to take Woody to the vet and be with him in his last moments. She so loved that dog. She's been crying off and on all night and I'm of little comfort since I'm so upset myself.
It's times like these when you want to believe -without a doubt- in heaven and angels and life after death -even where dogs are concerned. Woody is surely angel material. He brought us so much fun and laughter and gave us unconditional friendship... it's just hard to imagine tomorrow without him. I hope if there is an ever-after for dogs that Woody is among friends now and knows how much we all love and miss him. I wish him limitless frisbees and tennis balls and all the swimming and squirrel-chasing he can handle. I hope he never forgets us because we'll never forget him. We're better people for having known him and much sadder people for having lost him so suddenly. Rest easy Woody. Thanks for all the great times. We love you and miss you terribly.
