Ode to Mr. Willard

Yesterday morning, we lost a dear dear family member, Mr. Willard.  He was one of our rescue Yorkies.  We adopted him when he was 12, because his family felt they could no longer care for him, and he was going downhill.  Well, Mr. Willard surprised them...he would have turned 18 in August.

Mr. Willard was a very special dog to me.  He came to me at a time when I was going through some severe anxiety that turned into depression.  I was on medical leave from work...it was basically a work burn-out I was going through, which exacerbated itself.  I was battling a medical condition that was debilitating, frustrating, and painful.  Due to medical leave, I was feeling pressure to get well to go back to work, our finances were in crisis, and life was just not good.  Enter Mr. Willard.

Mr. Willard, from Day One, would just 'know' when I didn't feel well.  He would sit in my lap for hours, letting me pet him, letting me hold his little paw, not caring if his fur got wet from my tears.  He never judged, he'd give me kisses, and, overall, he taught me that life can be tough, but we all just have to keep going.  There were days when I didn't know if life was worth it anymore, but, having Willie, I knew I had to keep going for him.  Mike wouldn't be able to care for him like I could, and Willie deserved a loving retirement home.  He helped me through a terrible time in my life, and for that, I'll be forever grateful.

In the past year, Willie suffered some health issues.  We had to have one eye removed, due to a ruptured ulcer.  His other eye was blind.  For the past couple of years, because he had arthritis, we had to carry him up and down the stairs.  When Maelie came, it became more of a challenge to care for Willie, but I refused to become angry about it, and never once felt as if he were a burden.  I always said that I would care for him like that for a million years, if it meant he could stay with us.

But, Mr. Willard was an old dog.  I knew this in my head, but my heart didn't want to listen.  This past week, Mr. Willard stopped being able to move.  He was in great pain, and it broke my heart to see him like that.  The only thing I could do was return the favor he gave me years ago.  I held him, I comforted him the best I could, and I held his little paw.  We knew yesterday morning that it was time.  I think Willie knew, too.  Before Mike took him to the vet, I held him and petted him, told him all my feelings, thanked him for the wonderful times we had together, and we made our peace.  I have no regrets about it.  Yesterday was incredibly difficult, and I cried every time I saw the empty spot on the couch that was 'his.'  Today is better.  My heart is listening to my head again, and I know I did the best I could for him, I tried to make every day with him count, and he's no longer in pain.

I will miss you, Mr. Willard.  I know you will always be with us, and I will see you again.  I love you.  You were a good....no....WONDERFUL dog.