Thirteen and a half years ago, I rescued two little five-week-old pups from an eight-foot-deep dry well that was under an old house. The owner of the pups insisted that I keep them, which I did, thinking I would give them away the next day. They became part of the family. I named them Waylon and Willy. Sparing the details, on July 3 we lost Willy. It was not sickness. It was sudden and instant. He is now resting in his own little place of all pets loved. He is survived by his brother Waylon, me, Barbara, and a host of kids and grandkids and friends who have enjoyed his company. There are many things I could write about Willy. I have written about the two boys often over the years. There are many lessons that have been learned from their lives. We become attached to our pets, and when we lose them, we feel the loss. I certainly feel the loss. I have enjoyed that little boy every day for over thirteen years. Waylon feels the loss. He and his brother have never been separated throughout their whole life except for two times that I remember, and that was in a vet’s office in two separate cages overnight. So, I am now working with Waylon to help him get over the loss. He is overcoming, as am I. I have been a daily, watchful care-giver for those little guys every day and every step of the way—always looking, watching and listening, to make sure everything is okay. So, to lose one is an adjustment. In all my memories, there are two things that stand out in the pictures in my mind. One was how proud Willy was for us to walk together. That little head would be held high, slightly tilted back, and he would literally prance along with a slight swagger from side-to-side. He loved it for me to walk with him. The other thing I see before me is how he loved to lay down and rest near me with his chin resting on the ground, his belly flat on the ground with his legs flat on the ground. His two hind legs would be extended back flat on the ground. In this, he wanted to be touching me at my feet or at some point. Walking in my presence and resting at my feet touching my person—this is the overriding memory I have of Willy. He leaves us with a lesson: (1) It is a privilege to walk with the Lord Jesus, who is the Lord over all. (2) The Lord will take care of us as we walk with Him, and we can rest in His love being connected with Him. Six simple words can connect us to Jesus Christ to walk with Him and rest in His love. “God forgive me. God help me.” Six words takes us from the pit of destruction to the palace of His peace and eternal presence.
Tribute to Willy
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