I’m writing this with the most aching sadness I’ve felt in a really, really long time. I’ve cried pretty much every moment I’ve been awake since Wednesday, February 16 at around 5:30 p.m. I am so sad to say that we’ve lost our boy, Sir Winston Stanley Powell to dog heaven. I’m not going to go into details because re-living his last few minutes isn’t what I want to do here and it’s way too fresh in my mind.
What I want to do is remember everything I loved about my dancing bear who jumped, wriggled and tap danced his way to the backdoor every morning, lunch hour and evening on his way out for a pee. A tiger striped, white pawed and black faced handsome boy who had the most kind and magnificent face. He always found the only space available with you on the couch and if you were on your side you can guarantee he’d find his way to the crook of your legs and his paws would be flopped over your knee with his head on your bum. He’d always bring his favourite corkscrew-style rubber toy over to play. Alex and I have spent countless hours playing fetch (in the house!), tug of war and well, I’m not sure what this is called but holding the toy in the air while moving it around in circles and Winston would jump, flip and lunge for it running around our feet. As soon as we found out we had a baby on the way we got rid of Winston’s crate and started to keep him in our nursery (the room off our bedroom) while we were out. He did not chew one thing, have one accident and was always waiting for us either laying in his poppasan or on our bed with his head titled to the side and his little nub of a tail wagging. The question “Were you a good boy?” and inspection of the room was always met with an excited dance as he waited for a pet or a good scratch from head to toe. When I scratched his upper arms he would lay down he was so relaxed and when I got to his bum he’d sit down because his legs would give out from under him. “Do you want to go for a walk?” or “Do you want to go for a ride in the car?” always resulted in him booting it from wherever the question was asked to the front door and then he’d anxiously twist and turn his body waiting for his leash to be put on and us to get ready. In the car you’d feel his little face on your shoulder or his tongue attempting to lick the back of your ear. If you left and came back he was always in the front seat waiting and after a “Winston, get in the back!” he’d reluctantly move to the backseat (my fault, sometimes I let him sit on me in the front). He was so good on walks – we’d let him off his leash in the laneways and he’d run like a madman, you’d call him and he’d stay where he was and wait for you to put his collar back on to cross the street. If we were at the park and he was off leash – even if there was another dog, he’d come back to you. He was only a year and three months old, pretty impressive. He could sit, stay, come, lay down, shake a paw, high five and we were working on roll over. He’d run like a crazy man around the park, backyard, cottage or house and chances were he’d either have transformed into full batboy or half batboy – this was when one ear was flipped inside out and backwards or both were, he honestly looked like a bat and he’d be called “batboy” until his ear was flipped back to the normal position. He never once growled at another dog or tried to start a fight - he even let girl dogs and puppies hump him!! Such good manners. When he’d come in from outside he’d sit on the mat and lift one paw after the other so his paws wouldn’t leave wet marks all over the floor. He’d ring his bell at the back door when he wanted to go out. He was amazing. I miss him SO freaking much – and it hasn’t even been a day yet. Baths were so funny – first of all, he loved them. If Alex or I were in the bath we’d look over and see his face perched on the lip of the tub. I’m sure we looked pretty nuts lifting a 70lb dog into our claw foot bathtub, pouring heaps of warm water over his body and scrubbing him clean with “Say Yes to Carrots”! He’d lick the water and attempt to lick the shampoo off his body. We’d then lift him out of the tub onto a clean towel and throw another towel over top of him and dry him as best as we could with him trying to buck me off his back. Before the bath I would close all the doors to the rooms and move all the pillows/blankets from the couch because the minute I took that towel off him he’d start dive bombing every soft surface that was available flopping all over things, rubbing his face all the way down to his bum on whatever he could find...what a nut! He loved all cottages – running around outside all day, going for big walks, SWIMMING and I think his personal favourite, eating the grease out of the fish fry pan at Ashley Tryan’s cottage. I can’t remember the last good sleep in both Alex and I got. I think 7:45 a.m. was the latest we were both in bed because Pootes was ready to get up. The thing is – neither of us minded getting up with him that early even if we were tired. We got up, and let him out and the other person got up shortly after because, well – if everyone else is up why shouldn’t you just get your butt out of bed?
These last few weeks have been some of my very favourite with SWSP – I can honestly say I’ve cherished every moment. We knew he was sick and I just knew he wasn’t going to get better. The vet said it could be pneumonia, an infection or his heart – I could feel it in my heart that it was his heart. He’s slept in bed with us almost every night....he sleeps pretty much on me and I’ve caught him actually on my pillow with me a few times. Even though he took up ½ my side of the bed I didn’t mind. I’d reach down, readjust him and go back to bed while listening to a big sigh from him for disturbing his slumber. When we’d finally get up (Alex leaves earlier than me) he’d stand up, stretch and attempt EVERY MORNING to partake in his morning shake on our bed. It got to the point where I’d starting holding his head and back so he couldn’t shake and force him off the bed – who wants a bunch of dog hair on their bed!? To be honest, right now I wouldn’t mind. I’d started giving him little bits of people food. I’m not talking french fries, I’m talking lemon in his water (helped with his breath and he LOVED it!), a piece of cheese for sitting and staying at the backdoor, a lick of the spaghetti sauce leftover on my plate (don’t worry, I washed it!) etc. I can’t remember the last time I got mad at him for anything. I am also so happy that we have so many photos of our little man - all the way from when he was a little tiny baby to probably 2 days ago. I don’t think I’m ready to look at them all yet without having a mental breakdown but I’m glad they’re there when I’m ready. I am so glad we’ve spent so much time with him. He’s been so good – the best.
The only part that makes any of this slightly and I mean SLIGHTLY ok is that I know he’s better off. I don’t mean without Alex and I because I can pretty much guarantee that he’s running around in dog heaven looking for us. But I know that the life he led for the last month or so wasn’t fair to him. He couldn’t go on walks or he’d gag to the point of exhaustion and look at me with the saddest eyes. He didn’t want to play with other dogs (other than his girlfriend Daisy) because he couldn’t keep up with them. He was basically an indoor year and three month old puppy. If he wasn’t overly excited he was fine, which is how we justified that it was ok for now. He could run in the house and play with his toys, he could lay with us and hangout, go for rides in the car and do tricks for treats. Looking back at it now, it sounds like a life for a dog who has lived a full life. Not a puppy who only one month ago was running around on Lake Rosseau for 5 hours playing in the snow and stealing cantaloupe peels from in the piles of snow I’d covered them with. I had plans for us on maternity leave that I’d go for big walks and runs with him and the baby – which wouldn’t have been possible and would’ve been torture to both him and me. Even for family day Alex was saying we should all go to Bond Head and walk around – well, we couldn’t – not with Winston. So this is about the only thing right now that makes me stop and think “it’s ok” (that is until another memory sneaks up on me and makes me cry again). I cry for me, I cry for Alex but I am not crying for Winston. He’ll miss us I know but he can run and play until his heart is content up in dog heaven.
His face, is the physical feature I’m going to miss the most. I know most people think their animal is the cutest but Winston was more than cute – he was handsome and he was our baby. His face lit up my face, his face made me happy, his face made my day. His face did the same for Alex – we always talked about what a magnificent face he had.
I am going to miss his companionship more than anything in the world. Hell, he even followed me to the bathroom. I can’t remember the last time I was in my house actually by myself. The only place he didn’t follow me was the basement. Winston made me feel ok to be alone – before, I couldn’t go more than an hour or two by myself. As long as I had him I was good for days. He was my company – someone to make me smile, to take on walks, to love. I didn’t need a person if I had him with me.
I’m not sure if he ever really knew what his real name was. Here are some I can think of off the top of my head: Pootes, Tootes, Niggly-boots, Sir Winston, Winston Stanley, SWSP, Winston, Stanley, dancing bear, batboy (when his ears were flipped back), half batboy (when one ear was flipped back).
Right now, it’s 7:42 a.m. and I normally get up around 7:15 a.m. – I can’t bear to get out of bed. I know Alex put all his toys, food bowls, bed etc down in the basement for me, I know he’s got Norah Jones playing so it won’t be so quiet but it’s still not enough. I want my puppy. I’m getting up, I’m showering and I’m going to work. I think if I stayed here I would dehydrate and that’s not good for the other person I have inside of me. But believe me, if it was just me I’d dehydrate.
Pootes, I love you – I love you so so so much. I miss you, will never forget you and you are the "dog of my life".
