Today, the one year anniversary of losing you...

You've been gone a year today, our little Willie.  When you left us that day,  your lifeless little body lying on the daybed, I tried to envision my life without you.  I felt a sob caught in my throat as I tried to suck in some air, my red rimmed eyes filled with an endless supply of salty tears and my heart... so heavy.  

Dad and I wandered about the house as you lay there, trying to find a place to set ourselves down but no comfy sofa or cushy chair could relieve the emptiness.  We needed to decide on where we would place you for your eternal rest but neither of us could utter the words, neither of us could speak. 

We hadn't slept more than a few hours the previous night, trying desperately to  comfort you as you coughed, your eyes wide with fear, looking to us for some answers, some relief.  We had none to give.  We could only give love.  You accepted it, you gave it back, your little paw resting on our leg or your little chin nuzzled into our warm flesh.

Each morning brought hope those last few weeks when we'd go outside and the coughing stopped.  You didn't cough when you were standing.  You'd mosey around the yard as you always did, sniffing your favorite spots, spritzing your favorite spots and stopping periodically to lock eyes with me as I wandered about with you, my heart breaking.

I heard him flip the switch for the basement lights and moments later, Dad was in the yard with a shovel. Through blurry eyes he sized up the exact spot where he'd plunge the shovel and begin to dig.  Looking out the glass of the kitchen door, I knew I had to go outside with him. I couldn't let him do this alone.  He had done it two times before in the 21 years we've been together, for your brother Bart in 1996 and then again, your brother Ben in 2008.  And now, my dear WorldWideWillie...you.

We gathered your furry little body in our arms, the little green St. Patrick's Day bow still attached to your collar and gently placed you in the ground, our tears dropping on top of you and your favorite giant brown bear.  It was then that I knew I would grieve for no more than one year, that I would write this blog, bringing it to an end on the one year anniversary, which is today, my little love.

Now as I write in a new blog every few days about a new chapter in our lives: www.worldwidewaftage.blogspot.com  I can finally say goodbye to you.

Saying goodbye to sorrow, a conscious choice to stop grieving requires a certain strength I didn't know that I possessed.  Ironically, this past year or so has brought a rash of sorrowful events, not dissimilar from those that others experience in their lives, not so unique and not so surprising.  And when I cried for you, my Willie,  I gathered in all the sorrows from the past years, the sorrows from a lifetime and grieved them along with the loss of you.

So as we waft our way into our new adventures, we let you go, we let the sorrow go and bring with us, into the future, the lessons we learned, the love we've known and the precious memories of you.  

A year ago today...

Dear little Willie, it was a year ago today that we went to the groomer for your usual St. Patrick's Day haircut.  You proudly strutted out the door fully aware of the little green bow attached to your collar and how handsome you looked.  

We had an appointment with our vet, Dr. Waag, later in the day to check into the cough you had that awakened us several times each night over the past week.  As little dogs age, that often develop problems with the little bones in the trachea which may cause coughing. The vet didn't sound worried when I called after the first night of coughing saying to give it a few days and see if it went away.  It didn't. 

You were nervous as always when we walked into Dr. Waag's foreboding clinic.  You sniffed around for a few seconds settling under the bench where I usually sat  when waiting.  You always loved sitting on my lap but here you were nervous, preferring to sit on the floor near my legs, your cold little nose tapping my leg every so often, your little front leg touching mine.  In an animated tone, I reassured you that nothing bad would happen.  But you remembered the last painful shots you'd had here and how tightly we held you to keep your from squirming.

Dr. Waag warmly greeted us while walking us to the big scale.  You stepped on without hesitation remembering that it was your Mom that hated the scale at the doctor's office, not you.  You'd lost 2 pounds.  We had been walking everyday all winter so maybe that attributed to the weight loss. No big deal, right?

They took you out of the exam room for an x-ray while you looked at me with those expressive eyes, asking, "Why are they taking me away from you?"  Again I reassured you and minutes later you were back in the room with me, anxiously sniffing around the room, contemplating a few spritzes to which I gently said, "no bad potty." You came and sat by me, again your little nose tapping my leg. Ten minutes later, Dr. Waag came back to the exam room with a sad look on his face, one that we had seen three years earlier, the day we let your brother BenBenBen go to doggie heaven.

The news was heart wrenching.  You had a mass that filled your chest cavity, pressing onto your lungs and heart.  We'd have to wait several days to have the U of M veterinary department review the test results and determine the prognosis.

The next few days were a haze. Dad and I speculated on the outcome trying not to imagine the worst. The coughing at night escalated to awakening us every 2 hours during which you'd jump off the bed, frightened and confused until the frenzied coughing jag ended and gingerly climb up your pet steps back on the bed nuzzling up against me. Our hearts were breaking for you, for us.  

Five days later, Dr. Waag called with the worst possible news.  You would only last two more weeks until your heart and lungs were crowded out by the savage, malignant tumor.  We had imagined, months, not weeks.  Surgery and traditional treatment were not viable options.  Our precious little WorldWideWillie's life was about to end. 

I took this photo of you the night we got the worst news. 

You dragged your toys onto our bed, up the two sets of pet steps 

in order to rest your weary head.

The rest of the story, the 17 days you lasted, as detailed in the beginning of this blog, were some of the most bittersweet, memorable days of my life spending every precious moment with you, whether up with you all night while you coughed or, during the days when you seldom coughed.  You figured out that you wouldn't cough when you were standing so you often stood next to me wherever I was, your eyes half shut with exhaustion, teetering on your little legs.  

We continued our daily walks, however slowly, with many rest stops in between.  The walks made you happy, made me cry.  We went to Petco, your favorite. We went for rides in the car with the windows open so you could stick your head out and "bite the air." We sat outside in the warm sun, your head turned skyward "sniffing the air.  We didn't sleep.  We didn't care.  We just wanted to be with you.

So, I write this to you today to tell you that we haven't forgotten you and that we thank you for the lessons we learned about unconditional love, a concept nearly impossible to behold among us humans... a gift that Mother Nature has bestowed upon us humans enabling us to love her amazing creatures, blending us into one family that fulfills our lives in a magical way.

On the anniversary of the day you left us, April 9, 2011,  I will write for the final time in this blog to begin a new chapter in our lives, a new blog.

(Please visit us at: www.worldwidewaftage.blogspot.com) 

I will let you go, our dear Willie, not the memories but the sorrow, not the endearing stories, but the pain.  

Your last day...

How we handle grief is a choice, isn't it?

Grief has come into my life like a fast moving train headed on a coarse to oblivion.  We can let it derail our lives or we can choose to take a cushioned ride in the arms of those who love us.  I have chosen the later, seeking comfort from family and friends and with time spent in quiet reflection.

Intermittently, triggered by a thought, a sight or a memory, I have been overcome with bouts of sobbing, gasping for air along with the accompanying tears, running my mascara and puffing up my eyes.

I have asked my psyche, my spirituality and my body to guide me to begin healing from the loss of my Willie.  Other recent losses, some of which I have stuffed along the way joined in the pool of emotion surrounding me.  Might I drown from too much to bear or could I take them on collectively?  Once again, a choice.  Once again, I chose the later.

Its only been ten days today.  I amped up my work out.  I fed myself the healthiest foods.  I cleared my mind at night seeking dreamless sleep. I looked at photos on my phone. 

Only two days after we lost him, I retraced the steps we took on our joyful daily trips to Poop Park, frequently crying into the soft paper towel I had taken along for this sole purpose.  I reached into my pocket and found the crumpled plastic bag I had always carried with me, never using it since he refused to poop in front of his MMM. He would with his DDD, an oddity we had observed over his life.  I had always giggled to myself thinking that it was a guy-girl thing, a shyness over bodily functions us humans experience for awhile when we are in lfirst in love.

I can't put these three things away...

OK, it's a bit odd, these three items sitting on our bar counter top; the half of the dog cookie with the DREADED PILL still stuck in the frosting that DadDadDad found in between the sofa cushions on the last day of your life; one of the homemade dog cookies I baked this past Christmas that I found hidden in a shoe in my closet; the beef bone you so carefully maintained outside all winter for which I posted a video here, that our grandson Vincent found when looking for Easter eggs , that you had reburied in an obscure spot in the yard a few days before you died.  I can't throw them away. 

The toys, except the two I have kept near me, your snake and Tiger Woods, went into the attic with the two sets of pet steps along with your "pet bed" (as we so lovingly called it, when your eyes were sleepy but you weren't ready for our bed), your water bowl, harness and leash, all painfully put out of sight in a futile effort to minimize the sorrow.

These three items remain in plain view for five weeks now, haunting me, reminding me

of your busy little life, filled with the plotting and the planning of the daily

routines you so methodically entertained.

We miss you WorldWideWillie.  We miss you chasing the h..o..n...k...e...r...s off of the lawn, now hugging our shoreline with a multitude of babies in tow.  We miss saying "get that bird" when the heron sat on the dock, as if awaiting your enthusiastic bark to send him on his way for which

he honked at you as his massive wings took flight. 

The bald eagle has swooped into the trees, looking down for you, hoping to lift you up with his foreboding talons, for his tasty meal and you aren't there.  We miss your inquisitive sniffing of the rip rap shoreline hoping to encounter a dead fish that you could drag onto the lawn to roll on  so we could laugh.  We miss sitting on the dock with a line in the water with you eagerly affixing your gaze on the red bobber, awaiting the catch of the day.

A few days ago, on a rare warm day, I sat in the rocking lawn chair, expecting you to jump up any moment bestowing those slurpy kisses on my face while firmly planting your butt on a comfy spot on my lap.  How can I ever enjoy sitting there soaking up the warmth

of the sun without you?

Eventually, these three little items will be gently wrapped and placed in the attic along with your other things, with the expectation of someday rediscovering them and to be reminded of how hard it was to let you go.  After all, its only been five weeks, and they will be put away when I stop counting the weeks on my fingers since you've been gone... and feeling the heaviness in

my heart without you. 

Who are you, reading this blog??? Please tell your story in comments...

I began writing this blog about the last days of our precious WorldWideWillie's life at the end of March.  As a result I have experienced so much comfort knowing there were readers out there, sharing our joy, laughter and sorrow. 

Each day I have looked up the stats to discover how many have read the most recent post.  It warms my heart and I thank you. Each time I write, the readership increases, sometimes substantially. I am wondering if I should continue posting. 

Please post here on "comments" and tell me a little about your story. 

Thank you with all of our hearts.

Letter to our Willie

My dear Willie,

Through a river of tears that flow from my sorrowful heart, my view of the world has changed without you.

When you were with me, I maneuvered my days around getting to you, often counting on my fingers how many hours had passed with you waiting for me to return.

When detained, I often became panicky stating, "I have to go now," without further explanation… knowing you needed me, assuming they wouldn’t understand.

 I never felt resentful.  I only felt joyful anticipation at seeing your precious little furry face, sparkling eyes and the whimsical expression that I always thought was a smile.

When you’d hear us drive up, you’d anxiously scatter about the house, seeking a favorite toy for your mouth in order to present an acceptable greeting at the door.  And, if ever you weren’t there when we entered, it was only a result of my most recent tidying frenzy, which sent you digging in the huge bucket in DadDadDad’s closet, where surely they would have been placed. 

You’d frantically dig to discover the one that felt perfect for the moment and run at full speed to the door, tail wagging wildly and the prize in your mouth.  It could be your four foot yellow snake, your Tiger Woods, your Fred Flintstone, the dangling baby rattle or the giant soft brown teddy bear we lay beside you when we laid you to rest.

So I go on our walk each day, sometime twice, and miss the endless sniffing of each protrusion all the while reveling in your amazing ability to dribble yet another few drops on each and every point of interest where some other dog may have been before you.

Each meal I eat, by route, I leave a few little bites for you and then I remember. Lying on my back at night, a habit I acquired to accommodate your sleeping with your chin on the top of my foot, I don’t move, for fear of awakening you and then, I remember.  

We miss you WorldWideWillie.  Forgive us for beginning to heal.  It doesn’t mean we didn’t love you with all of our hearts.  It merely means that we want to replace our tears with laughter while telling endless stories of your life, however short in the realm of ours. 

And now, I count on my fingers, how many weeks you’ve been gone,  knowing full well that in time, I’ll stop counting… as our world without will go on but our love for you… will go on forever.

Grief can be a fast moving train...

Grief, a fast moving train, bound for oblivion, overcomes us. We can let it derail our lives or we can grab a seat in the cushioned arms of those who love us. I chose the latter seeking solace and comfort from my family and friends who so willingly embraced the challenge, never minimizing the degree of my suffering by saying that it was "only a dog," or "that he lived a full happy life." I miss my Willie. My heart aches for him.

In quiet reflection, I asked my psyche, my spirituality and my body to guide me healthfully through this painful process. Answers came easily.  I increased my workout efforts, fed myself healthful foods, allowing my brain to shut off at night, welcoming dreamless sleep. I know what I have to do. 

 I gathered unhealed grief from recent times and invited it to join in this pool of sorrow, having been tucked away to face at another time…and now, the time was here. 

Two days after we lost him, it was Monday.  DDD had gone off to work early and for the first time in almost 12 years I was truly alone.  I didn’t bolt out of bed to let him out to go “good potty,” or to slightly warm a bowl of his homemade food in the microwave or pour him a bowl of fresh water, or to listen for his gentle knock at the door when he was ready to come inside.  I know what I have to do.

I took the walk to Poop Park alone, no little red harness, no leash in hand, no WorldWideWillie. Retracing the steps we took each day, soft paper towel in hand sopping up tears along the way; no little red harness, no leash in hand, no WorldWideWillie. 

Warming my hands in the cold air, I reached into my pocket to find the plastic bag we never needed to use since he refused to poop in front of me all of his little life.  He’d go for DDD but not me.  He had private places to go away from my view.  I often giggled about it thinking it was a guy-girl thing, the way we are shy about bodily functions when we first are in love.

It’s been ten days today.  I miss him so. Each night I expect to feel his tiny body nuzzled up to my feet, resting his weary chin on my outstretched foot and lying quietly all night, occasionally annoyed by my stirring after which he would reposition himself, digging in his chin to this familiar resting spot. 

The pet steps are still there, the toys, neatly stacked in his little bed.  Each day I put away another reminder knowing full well that doing so is a part of the healing.  I know what I have to do.

This Monday, a week after the lonely first walk, I decided not to cry for a few days and to laugh in its place. To laugh about the nose prints still on the inside of the glass in my car, to laugh at the treats we have found tucked into sofa cushions or hidden under furniture, to laugh seeing Max, the dog next store, digging into the spot where Willie had hidden a bone in the neighbor’s yard on the day he died, as a token of his friendship to the dogs he loved.

The corner has been turned; the healing as a natural progression that nature has given us, with the skills and desire to move on.  There still will be tears. There still will be a sudden sob with a wave of pain in our chests. There still will be his missing Easter basket filled with treats and toys.  There still will be the fishing off the dock without his excitement over the bouncing red bobber. There still will be the 4^th of July without him shivering on my lap.  There still will be an m...o...u...s…e or an s…q…u running up a tree. 

But I know what I have to do and I am doing it.

We love you Willie.  We always will.


MMM

Posting error...please read this last blog from today...thanks to all of you for sharing this with us...

WorldWideWillie's last day, Saturday, April 9, 2011 was a bittersweet day; joy for the wonderful life he so enthusiastically shared with us and many others and almost unbearable sorrow that his precious little life came to an end. 

Grief is a powerful emotion.  It comes as an unwelcomed visitor you must somehow entertain.  It starts in the pit of your stomach coming up to your throat in a rolling wave, released only by tears and sobbing.  You catch a quick breath, recover, and it rises up once again triggered by a simple thought, a sight, a sound, a smell, a well intended word or a memory. 

Relief only comes when the expanse of time between each sigh widens and gradually you become whole again.

This two day old grief feels heavy and burdensome.  I want to run, to shut it out but there is nowhere to go.  I’ve been here before as we all have been but its familiarity is no consolation.  If anything, it frightens me recalling the way it lingered in the past.  

Then again, I have always come back to a level place where the edges of grief were softened, replaced with memories that made me smile while recalling stories, too often repeated to the same willing listener.

Goodbye, our WorldWideWillie. 

We already miss the jingle of your tags on your collar and the tapping of your toenails as you ran across the hardwood floor.  I will miss seeing you sitting on the back of the sofa looking out the window as I breeze by the living room hurriedly passing by, ensconced in my day to day dribble.  DDD will miss your company as he works in the yard in the summer and shovels snow in the winter, as he sits quietly by the fireplace reading the Sunday paper with your chin resting on his foot.  

I fear going to bed each night anticipating the loss of your warm little body nuzzled up to my feet, your gentle snoring occasionally interrupted by the sound of your contented moaning.  Your pet steps, two sets to accommodate the high bed and your little body, still remain in place.  I can't take them away yet.

When Dr. Rebecca came you greeted her outside, happy to see a new girl, your tail wagging so fast it was barely visible.  You always loved girls.  You sniffed her bag for the trace scents of other pets like you, whose time had come to move on.    You welcomed her.  She gently addressed you and then us, knowing from our red puffy eyes, that this was perhaps harder for us than for you. 

You had lived the life expectancy for your breed but our expectancy of your life felt cruelly cut short.  And yet, our hearts broke for you, your endless coughing that had accelerated overnight, your labored breathing, the sorrowful look in your eyes begging us for the relief we had always freely given you when something was wrong.  

A few days after we got the diagnosis and as the coughing had worsened, you hid away in DDD's closet.  We were washing dishes after dinner and you came walking up to us with a terrified look on your face to help you.  You had somehow gotten a white plastic hanger wrapped around your middle.  You looked so worried.  Normally, we would have laughed hysterically, taken a picture and of course, quickly released you from this embarrassment.  But then, knowing your time was short, we soothed you, with oh's and ah's and quickly removed the hanger, knowing that only our Willie could get in such a predicament.

Relief was here, our little love.  She gave you a sedative.  You cried out as DDD held you tight to keep you still, this required grasp tearing at our hearts.  You relaxed while we quietly waited for the sedative to take effect.  We both had our arms around you as you lay on the daybed.  We sensed the relaxation in your body, the easing of your breath and the end of the coughing as you quietly surrendered to the drug.  The final injection was yet to come. 

We spoke to you in a whisper telling you how much we have and always will love you, what a smart and amazing boy you have been and that time will never erase the endless stories we will recall about you.  As she gave you the final injection, DDD held your little body as I held your little face in my hands with your nose close to my check, so I could feel your last breath.  In only a few short minutes, with a tender sigh, it came and you were gone.  

After Dr. Rebecca left, DDD said he wanted to show me something he found between the cushions on the sofa before she came. He opened his hand to show me an "opened” vanilla Oreo type cookie, the kind they sell at Petco.  The lid was gone but here was the remainder of the cookie covered with the white frosting.  Inside the frosting was THE DREADED PILL, still there. 

The cookie half still sits here on the counter, like his pet steps by the tall bed and his water bowl in the bathroom, his Tiger Woods toy, the YaBaDaBaDoo Fred, and the red harness for the walks to Poop Park.

Goodbye, our WorldWideWillie.  Thank you for sharing your life with us.  We will always miss you. 

We love you,

Your MMM and your DDD

Hi...its time to say goodbye...

WorldWideWillie's last day, Saturday, April 9, 2011 was a bittersweet day; joy for the wonderful life he so enthusiastically shared with us and many others and almost unbearable sorrow that his precious little life came to an end. 

Grief is a powerful emotion.  It comes as an unwelcomed visitor you must somehow entertain.  It starts in the pit of your stomach coming up to your throat in a rolling wave, released only by tears and sobbing.  You catch a quick breath, recover, and it rises up once again triggered by a simple thought, a sight, a sound, a smell, a well intended word or a memory. 

Hi...it's MMM here now...

Too hard to write without crying.  We miss him so much.  Will write in the next 24 hours.  Want to tell you what a little trooper he was.

Thanks for sharing his wonderful life with me and DDD.

Love,
MMM

Last photo of me doing what I have loved, being outside looking around with one good eye

Doggie Heaven, here I come...today's my day...

Yesterday was a good day.  We went to Poop Park, my MMM helped me find good spots to bury my chicken drummies,  I had ice cream three times for the sake of THE DREADED PILL, we played with my snake, my Tiger Woods (stuffed tiger), my Ya Ba Da Ba Doo (stuffed Fred Flintstone), and I ate a little eggs and bacon, fed to me by my MMM, who stayed at my side every minute.

It was a a usual day with all its familiar comforts, distractions and love. My DDD came home early, played with me, let me lick his hand for quite awhile (some kind of dominance thing they say).  I coughed a little more than usual and later heard my MMM on the phone to Ricky, my human brother, saying that time was getting closer. 

I've tried not to be scared.  Only a few things have scared me.  There's one of those smoke detector things in the ceiling outside our bedroom door and once a year it goes off in the middle of night (go figure) and this woman's computer voice says, "low battery,"  "low battery,"  "low battery."  That scares me to death.  I usually get real close to my MMM in bed and she lifts the covers so I can "go under." 

One day she and I were playing on the floor and she looked at me and said in a computer voice "low battery" and I ran under the bed.  Humans sometimes tease us dogs.  She later apologized for doing that.  My parents don't usually tease me but my reaction was so funny to her she couldn't resist.  It was just the one time, though and I forgave her.  I have teased her endlessly by ignoring her when she came outside calling my name.  Oh, I knew she was calling me but I thought it was funny to ignore her.

Around 10:30 last night we went to bed.  About 15 minutes after laying down, I coughed and coughed and coughed.  She gave me more of THE DREADED PILL around 1:30 am.  I coughed all night long keeping us all awake.  They rubbed my belly gently, gave me a massage, whispered how much they love me and did one of my favorites:  "twirl this ear, twirl this ear, twirl both ears."  My brother Ben liked the ear twirly thing too.  Ben, I'll see you soon!  I'm almost there!

My MMM and my DDD had said that they would call the pet equivalent of Dr. Kevorkian, Dr. Rebecca who comes to the home, when I let them know it was time for me to go. As we all lay in a little pile in our bed last night, my coughing out of control, we all knew the time had come.  I had let them know just like they knew I would.

We wearily got out of bed this morning, eyes glassy and puffy over with all the tears during the night.  We had eggs and bacon (I spit out THE DREADED PILL.  She put it in ice cream which I gulped down). This morning she gave me another chicken drummie, I buried it in Bella and Buster's yard.

She called Dr. Rebecca who will this afternoon, only a few hours from now. 

I am a little scared.  Will it hurt?  I know they will cry buts it OK.  I will cry too.  Its been a great life, filled with enormous amounts of love, fun, toys, humans and dogs. The daily routines made it especially happy, the home cooked meals, the special treats, the bucket of toys in my DDD's closet, the surprises from the store or her trip to a garage sale for more toys, an occasional m...o...u...s...e, the spelling, the visits with the little kids, the rides in the car and the tablespoon of i...c...e......c...r...e...a...m every night.

And then, there were the special occasions; the 4th of July when I sat on my MMM's lap while she watched fireworks.  I wasn't scared 'cause they were with me; Christmas and all my gifts, neatly wrapped under the tree; the round trip road trip to Las Vegas when I learned to knock on the car door when I had to go potty and the fact that they always stopped right away;  the time spent with Ricky and Monty; leftover Thanksgiving turkey;  the trips to Petco; watching the bobber while fishing off the dock in the summer and scaling my own fish with my paws and nose; my family, the grownups and the little kids; my aunts who love me show much; and all the dogs who visited, near and far, here and gone.  I loved it all.

Thank you, my MMM and my DDD, for loving me unconditionally and patiently and for taking such good care of me always and, especially when the end came near when I needed you so much. Thank you for not making me go one day too early even though it was so hard for you.   Hopefully, one day we will discover that Doggie (and other pets) and Human Heaven are one and we will all be together once again.  I love you.

P.S.  My MMM will write here for me tomorrow since I won't be here.

The anti-bark collar...I hated it...

Before I started coughing, my MMM bought a anti-bark collar.  My endless barking was driving her batty.  I barked at the mailman, the UPS guy Jimmy, the meter reader, Tucker the lawn guy and neighbor, Sam the neighbor kid who doesn't like dogs, a boat going by, humans and dogs walking on the ice, a newspaper blowing across the yard and anything out of ordinary. Some dogs raise their heads into the air and bark at nothing.  Not me. I didn't bark at nothing. 

A few months before I started coughing, my MMM bought an anti-bark collar.  She was tired of shaking her finger at me while saying, "no bark, Willie!"  Sometimes I'd shut up for a few minutes to make her happy.  Sometimes, she'd give me a treat when I shut up.  I'd gobble it down and then run back to look out the window to see if the object of my barking was still available.  As I said, I didn't bark at nothing. 

The collar came in the mail and she had me wear it for a few days in order to get used to the feel.  Nothing happened.  No big deal, I thought.  On the 3rd days, I saw her push a little switch on the collar.  Nothing happened.  She was sitting on the sofa, playing with that silly PDA thing so I lumbered up and sat behind her head, sniffing her neck and nudging with my nose.  Oh, oh.  I saw a strange dog in our yard and l let out a hearty bark and whooooooooooosh!  I got sprayed with citronella in my face.

I was so startled, I barked again and when I got sprayed a second time I jumped on her head, barked again and we both got sprayed.  She laughed.  I ran and hid under the bed.  I hated the collar.  Once I started coughing, she stopped making me wear that darned thing.  When we found out I had cancer, she tucked it away on the counter near the bar.  Every so often, she'd look at it, sad for the reason I couldn't wear it again, sad that she ever made me wear it. 

So yesterday, she put the collar and the three unused cans of citronella in a little red bag and we walked to Bella and Buster's house and dropped it off.  Their grandma has a small dog, Lilly (ha! Sounds like my name!) that barks at everything and...nothing.  She'll run under the bed when she gets sprayed in the face.  Bella and Buster wear them too 'cause they also bark at everything and nothing.  Like I said, I don't bark at nothing.

Now I can bark all I want and my MMM and my DDD don't say "No bark, Willie."  Last night when I had to pee in the middle of the night, my MMM stood outside with me in the dark and I looked up at the sky and...barked at nothing.  As she bent down to pick me up so I wouldn't keep barking and awaken the neighbors, I saw a tear roll down her cheek and a smile on her face.  I didn't bark at nothing after all.

My brother BenBenBen...

I've been thinking of my brother, BenBenBen, lately.  Hopefully, Doggie Heaven is all it is cracked up to be and I'll will be able to see my brother and all my friends who have passed away over the years.  But Ben...I miss him.

Ben died June 30, 2008.  That was a hard day for us.  We had the same biological parents but came from litters 3 years apart.  When I came home to my MMM and my DDD, in 1999, Ben didn't seem to mind at all. He let me sleep on the bed, play with his toys and he waited for me when we'd come back inside.  He always had to get his food first since he was a vulture so my MMM and my DDD accommodated him.  Rest assured, I never missed a meal. But BBB got to lick the plate first, get the treat first, get the tablespoon of i...c...e......c...r...e...a...m (BBB could also spell) and get his bowl of homemade food first.  I alway waited patiently for my turn. 

Ben was a difficult guy.  He was moody, growly and didn't warm up to humans easily.  He bit my MMM many times but she explained it was due to his Cushing's Disease. It made him grumpy but she and my  DDD accepted him as he was.  His hair fell out, his belly got big, he did some bad potty but somehow my parents loved him anyway. I watched all the things Ben did that weren't good and I didn't copy him:  no biting, no bad potty, no growling and no being mean to humans.  So I became who I am and he was him, really weird but loved nonetheless.

Over the years we became very close and when he died, my MMM and DDD brought his lifeless little body home to show me he was dead. They didn't want me to spend the rest of my life looking for him.  I sniffed him from head to toe realizing he was gone. It  scared me so I ran under the bed where I stayed for hours.  I couldn't eat for weeks. No appetite without Ben.  Eventually, my MMM had to take me to the doctor who said to make me special food; sauteed potatoes, chicken and rice. I finally ate and gained back my lost weight over time.

During this period, every time I ate, my MMM gave me a little treat for being a good boy and eating my food.  To this day, every single time I eat, I go stand by the treat drawer and patiently wait while she gives me a treat. I've got her trained!  Ha ha ha ha!!! 

In the mornings she'd give me my food and would then take a bath.  I'd eat my bowl of food and run into the bathroom quickly pushing the shower curtain aside with my nose to see her sitting in the tub.  (How odd that humans sit in a tub with those funny bubbles).  I made my usual little bark that said "I ate my food.  Now get my treat."  The first thing she'd do after getting dried off was to get my treat. She behaves, like me.  I've taught her well.

A terrible night...a fabulous day!

After my MMM & I were up most of the night due to my endless coughing jags, I assumed we'd have a quiet day feeling sluggish (a word my DDD often uses) and out of sorts. Not so with my MMM! 

I stayed in bed while she went to workout.  When she got home I saw a certain look on her face and I knew I was in for a surprise, tired or not.  She said,"Will, we're going to Petco!"  I started barking with pure joy, barely able to stand still long enough for her to put on the red harness, pour me a big mug of water for the car and head outside to the car.  This day was warm and sunny and I sucked in a big breath of fresh air, exhilarated by my upcoming adventure.

I stood on the center console on the ride to Chaska, from time to time nudging her with my nose or giving her a little lick, a true expression of my gratefulness and love. When we stood at the automatic doors to Petco, I stopped ahead of her waiting for the big doors to open. 

My small stature wouldn't trigger the doors to open so I waited patiently for her to move forward.  The doors opened wide to the familiar sights and smells of my favorite place to visit.   I couldn't decide where to go first.  My MMM told me I was in charge and she followed behind me.  I always love to do "the aisles" so off we went, hurriedly getting through the cats, gerbils, birds, ferrets and other pet's aisles to the best of all...the dog aisles.  The smell of the endless array of dog food, the treats, the pigs ears, the giant rawhide and the knuckle bones was overwhelming. 

My MMM said I could buy anything I wanted whether a treat or a toy.  I sniffed item after item (see the picture attached here of me sniffing the hooves) but I couldn't decide.   Also, I was thinking that it didn't make sense to buy something when I wasn't going to be around much longer.  In this tough economy, one must be frugal. 

And besides, over the years I have had every toy and treat I could ever have wanted. My MMM made homemade food, treats and Christmas doggie cookies. Every Sunday morning I had p...a...n...c...a...k...e...s.  I got to lick their plates when they were done (NO ONIONS, GRAPES OR RAISINS, THOUGH!). 

Every night I had a tablespoon of the best vanilla i...c...e......c...r...e...a...m in the world while they had giant bowls of the stuff.  In the summer, my little kids would fish and I'd scale the dead fish with my paws and then eat it.  My parents laughed when I'd k...i...s...s them later on with fish breath. 

Nothing was spared in my wonderful life and now as we left Petco for what most likely is my last time ever, I didn't need one thing.  So, my MMM put me in the car to wait for her while she grocery shopped and I barked heartily at every passerby.

Later when we were home, I rested for awhile and then we went for a long walk with my neighbors, Bella and Buster, the three of us peeing on and sniffing every post, pillar, tree and fire hydrant along the way. 

Needless to say...it was a very good day.

Ice out along shoreline! Yippee!

My MMM let me roam around my yard today without her following me.It was awesome!  The familiar smells, sounds and the warmth of the sun reminded me of spring.

Every so often I'd catch a whiff of something delicious.  I'd lift my nose up high in the air trying to detect the aroma, wriggling my nostrils with the fervor of a bunny rabbit, unable to pinpoint its source.

I turned to look toward my house and saw my MMM watching me.  She pretended to be taking out the trash but really wanted to make sure I was safe.

With my one good eye I could tell she was smiling, happy to see me enjoying myself.  For a moment  were both happy, unafraid.

I have loved my life.

Tough weekend...today is better...

I didn't feel like writing over the weekend. Coughing was bad and I didn't have an appetite.  My MMM made me those chicken livers I usually love and brought home one of those roasted chickens from the store.  I wasn't able to eat either. 

Then she made one of my favorites, p...a...n...c...a...k...e..., a catch-all phrase me and my brother BenBenBen learned to spell and used to refer to anything one eats at breakfast.  The yellow scrambly things sat in my bowl for a few hours until finally she tossed them.  She had a worried look on her face.

Later in the day, she made some ground hamburger but when I took the second bite I found THE DREADED PILL, spit it out when she wasn't looking, and wouldn't eat another bite.  I missed a few doses. I coughed a lot.  She tries to hide that she is worried.  She tries so hard.

She doesn't want to force it down my throat knowing how sensitive I am and how it would hurt my feelings.  That might make me hide under the bed all day.  When I do that she gets down on her hands and knees and looks under the little skirt around the bed trying to entice me to come out with that familiar sweet voice and some sort of treat. I go there because I want to be left alone.  I know she means well and I love her for it but sometimes I am scared and need to hide.

So our weekend wasn't that much fun.  My DDD was with me inside and outside.  It feels so good when he is with us.  He moves the furniture so I can easily jump up and look out the window.  The ice isn't our yet.  Hopefully, soon.

This morning I stayed in bed, covers tucked under my little arm (fine, little leg) and had the hardest time getting up.  She made p...a...n...c...a...k...e again to no avail.  But I did get THE DREADED PILL down wrapped up inside of a nice slice of homemade roast beef.  Yeah, it was worth it.   

There's the grocery store kind of out in the country in Waconia that makes the best bacon in the world, smokey, thick and meaty.  Yesterday, I heard her tell my DDD that she was going out there on Monday to get some of that bacon.  She knows how much he and I love that bacon.  As she headed out the door, she gave me the usual kiss goodbye (in case I drop while she's gone), she asked me if I wanted to ride with her.

"Go for a ride in the car."  WOW!  Nothing could be more exciting!  So off we went to the country for bacon.  Me, in the passenger's seat with my blankie and a big cup of water in the drink holder (I get so excited in the car, I always guzzle the water). 

It was so much fun except for the part when I had to pee when we got to the store parking lot.  She knows my bark when I have to pee but for safekeeping I always knock on the car door, a cool trick I figured out when to drove to and from Las Vegas over a year ago.  Gotta pee, knock on the car door. Simple. 

Luckily, she had the harness on me and a leash so we ran around the parking lot looking for a post.  The wind was blowing so hard, my ears were flying around and my pee sprayed all over me when I went.  She left me alone in the car while she went inside (NO DOGS ALLOWED!).  I entertained myself barking at every human and car that went by.  That was fun but I got out of breath.

She was smiling when she got back inside the car since she had a treat for me.  She said they were giving out samples of homemade salami which I usually love.  She put them in her coat pocket and saved them for me.  She placed both pieces on the center arm rest in the car hopeful I would gobble them up. 

I took one slice down to the floor of the passenger's seat grabbing a dishtowel she had on the seat and proceeded to bury the slice of salami in the corner and cover it with the towel along with the cell phone charger I found on the floor, in a neat little pile.  I was thinking, gee...maybe I will get better and when and if I go for a ride in the car again, the salami will be there for me under the towel.  Maybe I'll have an appetitie by then.  Good idea, huh?  When we got home I took the other piece and hid it in the yard using my nose, the same way I did in the video I posted here last week.

Still I hadn't eaten anything except for the one piece of roast beef when we went inside our home.  She unloaded the groceries and sat on the floor of the kitchen with a little jar and a baby spoon in her hand.  She offered me a taste of what turned out to be a jar of Gerber Chicken with Chicken Gravy.  When I tasted the smooth creamy texture with no sign of THE DREADED PILL, I ate spoonful after spoonful until it was almost gone.  Well, its like "they" say,  baby food and diapers in the beginning of life and baby food and diapers at the end of life.  I guess once she puts the diaper on me, I'll know the end is near. 

Today is exacly 2 weeks to the day, that my doc predicted my end would come.  But I am still here, going for walks to Poop Park everyday, carrying around my snake, looking out the window, riding in the car, searching the yard for rodents and playing with my dear MMM and DDD.  It's one day at a time from here.  I am grateful for every moment I have and grateful to my MMM and my DDD for deciding to wait for me to tell them when I am ready for Doggie Heaven, not when they were.  I'm not done yet...a little longer, please. 

Me, last night, tired and happy to be in bed...

Guess what? I got a card in the old fashioned mail today...

My MMM always tries to get me inside the house by saying "let's get the mail." I always run to the mailbox with her but there has never been any mail for me. Today was different.  I got mail!

A cute dog card came from my human friends, Liam, Jack and Karen and their dog Wrigley, wishing me well on my journey to Doggie Heaven.  That was so nice!  I keep looking at my card and smiling.  Maybe I will get more cards before the BIG DAY.  They even sent my MMM a cute dog card wishing her strength when she loses me.  Oh, I saw those tears in her eyes when she read the cards to me and she had said she'd try not to cry in front of me.  But this was really special so I didn't make a big deal.

Last night I heard her crying in the living room while watching some TV show and I wasn't even in the show!  Why was she crying?  I asked her about it when we cuddled before going to sleep and she said that sometimes humans cry watching shows, reading a book, or hearing a sad story or a song.  Once they start boo-hooing, they start thinking of other things they want to cry about and off they go...wiping, blowing, using those little white puffy papers in the bathroom and sometimes make a noise my MMM calls "sobbing."  Dogs don't sob. 

I don't cry but I moan.  I will ask my MMM to make a video of me moaning so you can laugh at me. Keep an eye out for that.  My parents always laugh when I moan.  My DDD moans when he brushes his teeth and eats good food.  That's weird.  I moan when I am wanting attention or I am content.  It started when I was a puppy.  I sit on the back of the sofa and look at my MMM.  When she looks at me, I moan.  When she looks away, I bark at her.  She laughs.  DDD laughs.  We do this a lot.  Its fun.

This morning my next door neighbor Max, a one year old white West Highland Terrier and I met outside.  He's the one who like to sniff my "you know what" which drives me crazy. Today, he wanted to play, pushing up against me, running into me and jumping all over me.  I just don't have the energy to play with Max.  So I raised my lip and showed him some teeth incorporating a nice low growl.  He didn't even notice.  That's Max for you!

Then my human friend Steph came to visit me and my MMM with her adorable little human girl, Carly and their new wiener dog, Mugsy. When I first saw Mugsy come in the door, I thought, "Oh, no!  They already have a replacement for me!!!"  I freaked!  Then Steph told me that Mugsy was their dog.  Whew!  Mugsy and I had fun together.  She is smaller than me so it was fun to herd her around.  She ate some of my chicken.  That's OK.  I'm not that hungry.

My DDD just came home.  He'll be with me all weekend.  I'm so glad he's here.  Every moment with my family is so comforting.  I do miss some other family members.  Maybe they'll come visit before I have to go.  One more lick would feel good. 

I miss my aunt in California.  We used to Skype (see the photo of me waiting to Skype with her).  Maybe we'll Skype this weekend.  Once I saw her on Skype and licked the screen.  Not the same as licking her face though.

Please ice, go out!!!

When we got the bad news about my impending doom, I had hoped that I would last long enough for the ice to go out on the lake.  With the coyotes hovering around us four little dogs, three houses in a row, we all have had to be on a leash to go out to do good potty. 

I've never had to be on a leash except for the walks to Poop Park, visits to the doctor, getting a haircut and trips to Petco, my favorite. (It's hard not to pee on everything at Petco.  It smells so good.  But my MMM told me, "no peeing at Petco."  So I held it).

This entire winter my MMM and my DDD have had to go outside with me every time.  In the past, I would go out for hours at a time, smelling, searching, burying and visiting.  I was welcome at any of the six houses along our peninsula which is a private road.  In a typical day, if the temperature was above 20 degrees I would go out a dozen times or more.  My MMM and DDD patiently let me in and out each time, on my own with never a worry in mind.

But this winter was different.  The hungry coyotes imagined a tasty meal of me, Max, Bella and Buster.  What a horrifying thought! So our parents took us out each and every time on a leash.  My MMM and DDD would let me drag them to all my favorite spots and patiently wait while I sniffed, peed and as you saw in my video, check out and re-hide my buried treasures. 

Now that I am ill, they offer to take me out more than ever.  They know how much I enjoy it.  They want my final days to be happy and you know what?  My final days are happy.   And...more than anything, I love them.  I love them so much.

My dare devil antics today almost got me in trouble

Oh, I would have been in deep doo doo today had I not had the sympathy of my MMM.  Well, here's what happened.

We went outside this morning to take out the trash and I sauntered along the walkway, sniffing here and there, determined not to wander away.  With the constant threat of a coyote grabbing me and taking me to Doggie Heaven a little sooner than expected, my MMM keeps a close eye on me. 

All of a sudden what looked like a huge coyote came running at me at a fast pace.  My MMM came to my defense and took off like young agile sprinter waving her arms and yelling "get away!"  A moment later a human on skis started yelling for what turned out to be her large dog with yet another large dog following behind her.  We both sighed in relief.

The two big dogs came into our yard and we did our usual sniffing of noses and butts.  Quite pleasant actually.  We all got along.  My MMM chatted with the skier for about 5 minutes and then the skier took off with her two bigsters in tow. My MMM beckoned me get off the ice and come inside.  I looked at her, I looked across the expanse of lake and in a split second decided to be adventuresome and I took off across the lake.  The ice was thinning in spots.  It would be risky for her to chase me.  She might fall in.  I didn't want that! I'm too small to save her!

But I ran and ran, the sloppy ice splashing my underbelly, the breeze blowing the hair from my eyes and my breathing labored.  I felt free.  I felt exhilarated.  My worries wafted away.  In the growing distance, I heard her call me with fear in her voice, a coyote could grab me in a split second and there was nothing she could do from this far away.  Then...she said IT!!! I barely heard her.  She spelled S...Q...U and I stopped and turned to see her.  She spelled it again S...Q...U.  She had me.  I turned around and headed home, winded and exhausted.

Years ago, my MMM taught me and my deceased brother, BenBenBen, how to spell.  Ben was kind of a crazy dog, neurotic, nervous and irritable.  We loved him anyway.  He'd over-react to just about anything.  So, one day when she was going down to the basement she told my DDD that she was going to do the L...A...U...N...D...R...Y since Ben always went nuts turning in circles every time she said she was going down to do the laundry.  Sometimes he'd turn in circles so hard; he'd bang his head on walls and furniture.  She decided to spell it instead but within a single weekend, Ben and I figured out what  L...A...U...N...D...R...Y was.  I would gingerly follow her down the stairs while Ben twirled himself into frenzy all the way down, barking hysterically with joy and excitement falling and banging his head all the way down.  Then she spelled,  E...A...T..., and then T...R...E...A...T, and then T...O...Y... and then W...A...L...K and on and on. 

After a few months we knew the spelling of many words and names.  They loved showing off their smart dogs who could spell to anyone who'd listen and we gladly cooperated and showed off.  But my favorites always were these two:  M...O...U...S...E and S...Q...U...I...R...R...E...L.  When she spelled mouse, I’d run along the baseboards sniffing for one and from time to time actually killed a few.  When she spelled squirrel, I'd run to a tree and reach up on two legs looking for the uncatchable squirrel. 

So, S...Q...U...was all I needed to hear and I ran all the way home across the lake, to my favorite tree, stood up on my hind legs, front paws up the tree and looked up but no squirrel.  She did it again, just like THE DREADED PILL!!! She tricked me!  But out of love, it was, totally out of love.

I'm not mad.

WorldWideWillie's Last Days...

My MMM washed my sticky face so she could take a picture...

Yeah, my face was dirty.  She tricked me and put THE DREADED PILL in a little bowl of ReddiWhip (another versatile use for this delightful connoction which I have had the joy of occasionally experiencing).  

No longer will I eat the little tidbits of beef liver hiding THE DREADED PILL and will continue to turn my nose away from her well-intentioned offers.  Shucks! Now I can't trust ReddiWhip either! I'm so pissed at her (not really) that I am going to tell a secret:  I once saw her squirt the ReddiWhip in her mouth!  Do other humans do that?

OK, I've got to admit I'm losing some ground. I don't have much of an appetite.  I am disinterested in all my usual treats except chicken jerky (can't hide a pill in there!) and I don't follow my MMM from room to room all day althought I'd like to.  Kind of tired but no pain.  Kind of sad but enjoying my routine. Kind of confused...why does this good life need to end? 

Me, looking out the window today...March, 29, 2011

Whew! I'm still here!

What a great weekend we had!  I got an email from one of my friends, Tuffy.  My MMM read it to me (I can write but reading is hard since I am blind in my right eye) and it warmed my heart.  Tuffy stayed with us a few years ago when her MMM went on vacation.  I let her sleep in the bed with us.  That was nice of me. But, then again...I like dogs.

My MMM made the liver, just like she promised.  No onions!  Dogs can't eat onions!  Tell your friends.  Also, dogs can't eat raisins or grapes.  My nephew Monty ate a little box of raisins he found under the bed (so his DDD presumed) while they were on vacation at a hotel that loves dogs. Those damn raisins (sorry, didn't mean to swear) kept him in the hospital all weekend and he never got to enjoy his vacation (nor did his DDD).  No grapes either!

Anyway, back to my weekend.  Saturday was fun with DDD being home.  He was coughing too.  I hope he didn't catch something from me! Although he was sick he paid attention to me all weekend, patting me, rubbing my belly, taking me outside and patiently waiting while I sniffed and peed on every upright obstacle.  DDD didn't cry when he kissed me like MMM does sometimes. Us guys are tough!

Bella and Buster went for a walk with me on Sunday and didn't bite my head off. Must be a "sympathy walk." I have to wear a harness these days so nothing is around my neck and makes me cough.  Yeah, the coughing is getting worse, especially at night.

My MMM called the doctor today about the coughing getting worse.  He said to increase the dose of Codeine so we can sleep at night.  It makes me sleepy and stops the coughing but I want to be awake and alert so I don't miss a thing.  My MMM said we'll stay with the lower dose during the day as long as I am not coughing too much.  It gets bad when I lay down so I don't sleep much during the day. 

Actually, I never did sleep much during the day anyway. Had to keep an eye out for the mailman, for Jimmy the UPS guy, or any other humans or dogs coming down our road.  That was my job.  Who will do it when I am gone?

Me, in front of the computer waiting to Skype my aunt...I miss her

Me, the day we found out the bad news. My snake and blankie were comforting.

Me, when I climbed a tree when I was younger....

A little tired today...

Its not that I am going downhill sooner than I had hoped.  It's the new pill, the Codeine, that's making me sleepy. I insisted on the daily walk to Poop Park by standing at the door with my special "Poop Park Bark." 

My MMM gets it.  Its a little higher pitched with short pauses in between with ears perked up and tail fiercely wagging. She put the harness on before we left but she had to adjust it.  I may be a bit bloated or it may be from the extra treats I've been getting lately for hiding THE DREADED PILL or, since we figured, "what the heck."  Keeping my trim figure isn't so important now. 

Good grief!  What if they find out I don't have the awfulness disease, my cough is from tiny bone fragment stuck in my throat and I end up looking like a pot bellied pig a few months from now?  Now, that would be a tolerable problem.  MMM would put me on one of her diets and life would be good.

TGIF!  My DDD will be home all weekend and will spend some quality time with me.  I'll sit on the back of the sofa, looking out the window down the road and he'll sit right near me.  From time to time, I give him a slurpy kiss or put a little paw on his shoulder.  He's been a good DDD.

So I won't have time to write here over the weekend.  My Saturday night's dinner with be liver, my favorite, with a bite of a buttery warmed baguette, a spoon of creamy mashed potatoes and some seriously good dinner companionship.  I'll put my worries behind me and live in the moment.

I'll be back on Monday with more news...hopefully.

Coyotes all around me...

Gosh, I would love to be able to spend my last days moseying around my yard, checking out all my buried bones, peeing where my friends pee, sniffing out some rodents and barking at whatever wanders by.  No go. 

My MMM & DDD won't let me go outside alone with coyotes roaming around our peninsula, waiting to devour a tender morsel such as myself, or my neighbors, Max, Bella and Buster.  Us little dogs are easy prey to hungry coyotes so all winter we've either had to be indoors or go outside dragging the boss around by the leash.  As we speak, MMM and I looked out the window and saw two of them on the ice, not together, but stalking as in a pack.  Very scary.

I had hoped that the ice would go out while I am still here so I can have some freedom to roam, visit the neighbors, see Jimmy, the UPS guy with treats, the nice mailman who stops for me, the friendly human neighbors who slow down when they drive by.  It doesn't seem likely but miracles do happen, don't they?

OK, MMM went to the vet and got a new drug for me, Codeine,  which is supposed to keep me from coughing.  Its much smaller that the last pill so she was hopeful I'd take it more easily.  Ha!  She tried a hamburger with cheese, I spit it out.  She went to my favorite, Petco, and bought these little treats called Pill Pockets that have a hole it in for the pill.  No! No! No!  I hate that treat let alone with the DREADED PILL in it!  She bought some cute doggie sandwich cookies, like Oreos, and smashed the pill into the frosting in the middle.  Nope, didn't work.  I ate around the pill and spit it out.

If anyone has an ideas what might appeal to me, please comment.  I know I need these pills.  They will make the end easier for me. Enough about the pill!

Otherwise, we had a good day.  We just came back from the walk and I'm going to take a little nap sitting by my MMM's feet in the living room, a place where I find great comfort and love.  I wish I could be there forever. 

Fell off my pet steps...

Well, it was time to "go under" meaning go to bed, a phrase my MMM uses to describe going to bed and I fell off the top step of the pet steps...ouch!  My parents felt so bad.  I guess I am not as sure footed as I used to be.  I'll have to be more careful.

The night wasn't too bad.  I actually got some sleep until 4:15 am when the coughing started again and what did that mean???...THE DREADED PILL!!!! I hate the pill.  She tried the pot roast, warmed up and juicy.  I spit it out. She tried the cream cheese, I wouldn't even taste it.  She tried the old standby, braunchweiger, turned my nose away.  I started wondering, what is she going to do now?

Oh, oh, it happened!  She shoved it down my throat and held my mouth shut while gently stroking my chin.  GUUUUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPP! It went down.  She gave me a chicken jerky to get the rotton taste out of my mouth.  No where to hide pills in dried up chicken jerky.  Thank goodness for that!  At least there is one treat I can enjoy without suspicion!

It snowed a lot last night and the wind was blowing fiercly when I finally dragged myself out of bed at 9 am and faced the elements for some"good potty."  My MMM put some potty pads down in various spots around the house.  But the only time that I ever used a potty pad was when we were in Las Vegas at Richard's (my human brother) house with his funny pug, Mont DeWillyDeHonk.  Monty used a potty pad in the kitchen when he had a pet door right there out to a nice patio.  Go figure.  Monty would go out on the patio, sprinkle a little on the plants and come back in the house and go on the potty pad. So, being the cooperative house guest that I am, I went out the pet door, sprinkled a little on a few plants and came back into the kitchen and laid a big one on the potty pad.  Monty smiled.  He was proud of me.

So when we came home to MN, I followed these house rules, that I knock at the front door with a little bark when I go outside to potty   No potty pads, no pet door, and no "bad potty" inside the house.  I train easily.

As for my "situation" I am holding my own.  Eating OK, still carrying around some toys, still barking at the mailman, still giving big slurpy kisses and still enjoying my home and my family.  I am a lucky dog.  The fact that I'm standing in line with a ticket in hand for a front row seat to Doggie Heaven, a little sooner than I had hoped, doesn't change that.  I am a lucky dog.

Keep on fighting...

Whew!  I made it through another night. The coughing during the night keeps us all awake.  Sorry MMM & DDD.

I hate taking that pill.  Yuck!  I gave up on the cream cheese.  No more hiding a pill in cream cheese!  I am on to her (bless her heart and good intentions). Last night she just shoved the pill into my mouth and held it  shut until I swallowed.  That was nasty.  However, this afternoon, I got the pill smashed up in some juicy warm homemade pot roast.  OK..I cooperated.

MMM feels badly leaving me alone at home when she goes to the health club so today she brought me along.  It was a blast riding in the car and barking at humans at stop lights and later in the parking lot.   When we got home, we went for a walk to Poop Park in the rain.  I tend to walk around the puddles, not through them, like some dogs. 

Yesterday, DDD sent MMM a cool email called A Pet's 10 Commandments.  I thought you might enjoy reading this, so here it is:

"A PET'S TEN COMMANDMENTS:

1.  My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.

2.  Give me time to understand what you want of me.

3.  Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.

4.  Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.

5.  Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.

6.  Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.

7.  Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet, I choose not to bite you.

8.  Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old or weak.

9.  Please take care of me when I grow old. You too, will grow old.

10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.

Take a moment today to thank GOD for your pets. Enjoy and take good care of  them. Life would be a much duller, less joyful experience without God's critters.   Now please pass this on to other pet owners. We do not have to wait for Heaven, to be surrounded by hope, love, and joyfulness. It is here on earth and has four legs!"

This blew me away!  I wish I had written this. My parents honored every one of these throughout my 11 plus years.  I have been very lucky to have them but then again, they've been lucky to have me.  MMM boo hooed when she read #10 and told me today that she will wait until I let her know that it time for me to go, not when she is tired of being up all night.  That's good 'cause I still have some fight left in me.  I really do...I really do...

Last days sooner than I thought...

Oh, no.  Doggie Heaven has opened its doors sooner than I thought and is awaiting me.  Doc called with bad news.  I have an untreatable malignant carcinoma in the right chest and they said I may be on this earth only a few more weeks.  Its hard to believe I will be leaving my MomMomMom, my DadDadDad and the rest of my family...all those kids that come to visit.  I always bring them a toy and wag my tail so hard, I almost knock myself out. 

Last night I did better with the increased dose of the meds, didn't cough as much.   The braunschweiger trick won't fly with me anymore so now she has changed to cream cheese.  Pretty tough to resist that stuff so I am cooperating for now.

This morning we went on our usual walk to Poop Park.  I saw Bella and Buster and they didn't bark at me.  Huuuummmmm...their Mom must have told them about my fate and they didn't try to bite my head off.  That was nice.  A little compassion never hurt anyone.

MMM is pretty sad.  She cries a lot but tries to keep me from seeing it but when we got up this morning there were little bunches of used kleenexes under her pillow.  I wish I could tell her that I am not afraid.  Maybe when she reads this, she will know.

In the meantime, as my two weeks tick away, I want to have lots of treats, kisses and walks.  This past week I have been checking out all the bones I buried in the yard last spring to make sure they are still covered up.  I was told as a pup that I wasn't allowed to dig with my paws so I learned to dig using only my nose. It gets mighty messy up my nostrils but its worth it.  I usually bury those "bank treats."  They hold up well over the winter.  I have lots to do before the time comes.  It pays to be prepared.

I'll be back soon (hopefully) with more news.  Thanks for listening.  Really, I am doing OK.
Love, Willie