He came into my life last June. I had told my kids "no more animals". We already had a doxie and a bull dog. Not to mention the cats, the horse, the chickens, the bird, the fish...you get the idea.
My husband and my younger two came home one afternoon grinning sheepishly, the middling hiding something behind his back. He pulled out this gray, tan, and black furball and plopped it in my arms. I got a lick on the cheek and at that moment, I fell in love.
He quickly befriended our bulldog (the doxie, not so much) but above all else, Wheatley became *my* dog.
He's at my feet...always. While I'm working, he's curled up under the desk. If I'm in the kitchen, he's right there. In the garden, he's helping dig holes...not necessarily what I want him to be doing but he thinks he's helping soooo...
The past couple of months have been really bad for me. I lost my MIL, as well as a few other mini catastrophes. I can't count the number of times I buried my face in Wheatley's neck and cried my heart out. He'd let me have my cry but he wouldn't let me feel sorry for myself for long. He'd run and grab a tennis ball, drop it at my feet and insist on a game of catch. Before I knew it, my spirits would be lifted and I'd be laughing again.
About a month ago, I went out to put Wheatley in his pen for the night. He begged not to go in. We live in the middle of about 80 acres so it's never been a big deal to leave him loose to run and chase rabbits at night. It was really cold that night so, even though I had a little inkling that I shouldn't, I left him loose. Unfortunately, that was the wrong choice. He was hit by a car that night. I have so beat myself up over making that decision.
My youngest made a cross for his grave.
I love you Wheatley....you were such a good boy! You are missed.
Please continue the circle by checking out Liat's story for this month!
