On Thursday, our gentle 11-year-old giant Wash suddenly went down. On Friday morning we had him put to sleep. Of all the dogs I've known in my lifetime I now realize that he was "my dog" more than any of them. He was embedded in my routine in a dozen tiny ways I never thought about.
As Tom said on Facebook, Wash was the opposite of Zoe, our other Boxer who died a few months ago. He was happy, curious, and playful as a Boxer should be. His soulful eyes added greatly to the Boxer look of "concerned curiosity" and he took that look seriously, he had to sniff every package or mail that came into the house.
We took it as a good omen that he died on the feast day of St. Francis. I am really glad that right before everything went downhill he went on a walk where he warned the other dogs that this was his street (by aggressively eating a mouthful of grass, an intellectual connection that the other dogs totally missed every time), drank from sprinklers, and checked out all the Halloween decorations in yards. In other words, he got to enjoy his life to the fullest to the very end.
He was a good dog and he will be missed by everyone who knew him.
In the meantime, Kaylee is doing her best to fill the void. As Tom says, "Even though we lost a pair of Boxers this year, we still have a half pair of briefs. (Sorry for the pun)"
|The early years, Wash and Zoe|
|More grown up and tired out from "watching" football with the family.|