Now What?

     Let me warn you from the start...this blog post is not too related to the issues of school.  Unless you count that chalkboards can be black, like Wally.  Or maybe that the first student week of school is one of the worst to have to call the vet in for the final hour.  You may also stretch and connect the stress of home and the stress of school setting in so quickly for the teacher during this first week of upheaval and the fact that, when these things happen, you have to just press right on ahead and make things happen at school.  But, all that aside, we had to put our Wally down the first week of school... and I did not expect it to consume me like it has.  So, when I searched my heart and mind for the topics I have been consumed with since this first week of school, this would be at the top of the list.
     Wally was supposed to be a croquet set or a badminton set, I cannot ever remember which.  My oldest and I had gone to Wal-mart for one of those cheap fun sets to brighten up Father's Day in June of 1999.  There was a pickup truck in the lower end of the lot, and a handmade sign for "Free Puppies".   There was one left and he was just adorable.  What puppy isn't?  They are made that way so you will take them.  There was another man looking at Wally too.  We took him, but I always wondered what would have happened for Wally if that man had taken him.  His life here was not all that easy.
     First of all, I am a cat person.  Their independence and cleanliness is just perfect for me.  They like to cuddle at night when things slow down, But otherwise, they do their own thing.  I love that.  Dogs need lots of attention, walking, letting out, quieting down if there is company at the door, baths, and they are sooooo messy.  Sooooo much work.  Not my style.  But we had children and it seemed a dog was in order.  We had purchased a golder retriever puppy the year before and he had worked out ok.  I just worried that he was lonely while we were all gone all day.  It seemed like he might want a buddy.  We brought Wally home, placed him at Skeeter's feet, and there was no magic.  In fact, Skeeter never really took to Wally.  He tolerated him, but that was it.  He would rather have loneliness and us in brief doses than this pesky little black fur-ball following him everywhere and whimpering the second he got up and went out on his own.  It was evident from day one, Wally was a needy little guy.
     This little guy grew to be a huge needy guy within the year.  He outweighed the golden retriever by at least 20 pounds.  The man who gave him to us said mom was a black lab and he was "not sure" about dad.  Well, dad must have been an Angus bull!  Wally was huge!  He did not know it though.  This posed several major problems.  He hated water, so he was impossible to bathe.  His excitedly happy tail wagged nonstop and could take out a four piece place setting in 30 seconds or less.   He thought anything that was not living was food and ate everything in a single gulp.  He was terrified of thunder and he did not care much for fireworks either.  I repeat, needy.
    When he was three, he and the golden decided they needed to go for a run, all over Salem.  When I finally caught up with them, Wally had been hit by a truck.  This required a visit to Virginia Tech's veterinary surgical unit, a lengthy shoulder repair, and four thousand dollars.  All to be followed with two months of one of those silly lampshades on his head, a cage, and to be let out every few hours.  Needy.
     He and the golden continued escaping the electric fence, and they were too big to be indoor dogs in our modest home, so we tried to find them a better home.  We gave them away, as a pair, at least four times, all to be followed by a phone call that it was not working out.  "The Golden Retriever does fine, but the black one won't stop crying."  We finally split them up and gave Skeeter to a fine farm home in Rocky Mount.  I am sure he was relieved.  Equally relieved was Wally, who got to come home and have his family back.  Try as we may, we still could not give Wally away.  But he did stop the escaping now that the other dog was gone, so this made things easier.  At least for a while...
     Wally did not run on his own, but a neighborhood dog started stopping by to play and this turned in to stopping by to pick Wally up on the way to a new escapade.  This became a costly adventure.  One of their "dates" was to a neighboring house for some pet ducks to snack on.  This was another stint in doggy jail, court, two thousand dollar claim against the homeowner's policy, and Wally's new-found home inside the house where he could not run away.
     Four years ago, Wally developed an aggressive cancer that took out a couple of toes and promised to kill quickly.  He lived through it and had only a few problems along the way.  But along with this malady, the promised arthritis from the surgery at Tech was setting in.  Walking became more and more difficult.  We tried to keep him moving, but he soon became immobile, getting up only to go to the bathroom.  Jerry built him a fine 12 foot ramp leading from the front door to the yard and we covered it with green outdoor carpet.  Some folks thought it was the beginnings of a putt putt course or a ramp for me, also a sufferer of cancer. The ramp gave Wally more time with us, and even on his last day, he journeyed down the ramp to do his 'business', then promptly came up to lay back down in his spot in the living room.  He never had accidents and left us with his dignity intact.  For that, I hope he was grateful.
     So, now we look at the emptiness that used to be Wally.  No more little whines, no more showing up at the bottom of the stairs to our bedroom due to fear of the pending thunderstorms, no more loud banging of the happy tail when we walked in the door.  I have to say, although I never will be a "dog" person, I will always be a "Wally" person.  He was a good soul.
     I can see him now, crossing the Rainbow Bridge, finding our other animals to say hello, and waiting there, for us.  I bet we will hear his tail.