My beagle Wendy died this morning, and its kind of numbing. We spent the last eleven years together 24/7. She was almost fourteen.
I got her when she was almost three. Not house broken because she lived in a kennel before she came to me. The bathroom was her bedroom at first and that’s where she chose to die this morning. Kind of full circle.
Now I’m alone for the first time in my life. It never dawned on me when I walked by her at the Loyalty Days Parade what an impact she would have on me. She was the typical beagle with that puppy face. The owners wanted $100 I gave $40. She never looked back when we left – didn’t cry or whimper – nothing.
It started off a little rocky – poop on the rug and other things and the fact that she was a beagle. A wiff in the air could send her off on a bolt. But we both learned to get along with each other. Or I should say, she decided to keep me.
I wasn’t a very good companion at first. I drank too much – was always a little distant – but she stayed and kept telling me in various ways that it’s ok to love her. Eventually I did. She accomplished what no one could do in fifty years. She made me feel human.
I buried her below the bedroom window and although I can’t reach over and rub her head, I can still say good night.
After twelve hours the reality is setting in that she’s not on the porch waiting to be let in.
Wendy’s gone and I miss her. She had a good soul.
Forever Wendy’s pal