Sixteen years ago today in Brussels, Wisconsin, a litter of golden retriever puppies was born. One of them was destined to be named Willow, and later, Willow The Best Dog There Is™ — we brought that special puppy home on May 16, 2009.
One of those song lyrics that has always made me cry is from “Mr. Bojangles,” when they sing about Mr. B traveling around the country with his beloved canine friend. “The dog up and died — he up and died — after 20 years he still grieves.”
I have 16 years to go before I know whether I really will still be grieving Willow after 20 years. I do know that I loved that dog more than any non-human I have ever known. She singlehandedly turned me into a dog lover — oh, I had bonded with a puppy or two over the years, but I was a self-described cat man in 2009. Then Willow arrived.
She was adorable. She was smart. She was mischievous. You see her above with her beloved orange Ting. I would throw it, cry, “Get the Ting!” and she would go get it, sometimes plucking it out of the air, and sometimes grabbing it off the ground running full-tilt and tumbling over from the effort. And early on she figured out how to fold it so that she could hold it in her mouth like a taco.
Everyone who bonds with a dog believes they have found the greatest dog that ever lived, and I am no exception. I called her Willow The Best Dog There Is™ with a bit of irony, because I knew many readers would think, “He only thinks she is because he never met MY dog.” Those of us who have felt that deep a bond with a dog are the lucky ones.
Red would chide me because starting about halfway through Willow’s lifetime, I started talking about her inevitable demise and wondering how empty life would be without you. “I’m going to have to euthanize Warren, too, when Willow goes, because he’ll be inconsolable,” she would say. But it was just my way of savoring the moments, knowing this was a once-in-a-lifetime dog, with all due respect to Dejah and Summer, whom I love dearly but they just ain’t my Will.
Willow and Red are looking down on us now from wherever it is that beautiful souls go when they shed their earthly bodies. I miss them more than anyone I have ever known, and I thank God for the privilege of being part of their lives.
I cherish the thought that Willow will be there to greet me when it’s my time to cross over there, and that she will be holding a heavenly orange Ting in her mouth, ready to chase it through the clouds for old time’s sake.
