Winston R.I.P. - 2009-06-10
Winston
aka Winstonian, the Winstonater, and “WintNon.”
May 1993 - June 10, 2009.
When Doug brought Winston home, he was just a puppy. He had so much energy, all he wanted was kisses and hugs and games. We lived in a little apartment behind a courthouse in Florida. It was a second floor apartment, and he was so little that he couldn’t negotiate the stairs by himself; I had to carry him. He was always cheerful, always ready to play and give kisses.
We moved several places over the years, and he was always friendly to everyone he met. He even liked cats. That was, of course, until his unfortunate incident in our backyard. A cat had sat on the fence, and then chased Winston and scratched him in the butt. He actually had to go to the E.R. for that, and ever after, if anyone said the word “cat”- he’d bark like crazy.
He had his own particular tastes- especially for cows. I used to have a big cow-shaped pillow to lay on while watching t.v….Well, she became Winston’s “girlfriend.” Even if there were other stuffed animals out, he always liked the ones that looked like cows.
He had friends of many different species. He would come over, tail wagging, to check on our parakeet, Margie-bird, when she would chirp in her cage. He also would come over when Simba, Aunt Autumn’s African grey parrot, would call him. Simba would call, “WintNon! Come HEeere!” and drop food for him. When he would come over and eat the food, she’s poo on his head and then laugh. I think he was just happy that he got extra food.
Sometimes other dogs would try to push him around, but he never was mean or vicious, even when he didn’t feel well. He was always sweet, no matter how he felt.
When I brought my son, Christopher, home from the hospital for the first time, he was very protective of him. Whenever the baby would cry or even make a small noise, Winston would run and check on him. Whereever the baby was, Winston was always close by. As my son got older, if Christopher was punished, Winston would get mad. Until my son was almost 7 years old, Winston always thought of Christopher as “his baby.” If I mentioned Christopher, he wouldn’t react much, but if I talked about “the baby” or “his baby” he’d run and check on Christopher. We used to talk about how Winston thought that my son was his “puppy.” He was very loving.
He was terrified of baths, but he loved the groomer. He would shake and shake in the car on the way, but (the groomer told me) as soon as I left he would wag his tail like crazy. The groomer always talked about how Winston was one of her very favorite “clients.”
For the past couple years, Winston’s been very ill. He was diagnosed with a heart murmur, as well as arthritis and vestibular syndrome. After his kidney disease was diagnosed, he was no longer allowed to have any treats other than the prescription dog food. He took it in good grace, and he continued to get just a spoonful of peanut butter every day (with his medication hidden inside). Whenever he got to have his “peanut butter treat,” he would just light up, and his butt would wag with happiness. Whenever his arthritis would bother him, he couldn’t help being a little “nippy,” but it was never mean. He would show his teeth, reflexively, because when you picked him up he was sore. He couldn’t help that, so he licked through his teeth. For the longest time, we couldn’t figure out what he was doing. He was trying to kiss us, to show us he couldn’t help it. He was always sweet.
He’s gotten sore, half blind, and hard of hearing over time, but recently he stopped eating and drinking. I took him to the vet, and she did bloodtests. His kidneys had finally failed. Even then, he was cheerful. He was scared of the vet, yet he always came quietly and behaved like an angel, even when he had to get a shot to hyrdrate him daily.
He always came to me when I called to give him his medicine, even though he hated it. I got a different food for him, and eventually any kind of food he’d like, in order to get him to eat and drink. Whenever he wasn’t nauseous, he’d wag his stub, pleased to have something new to eat. A couple days ago, he even started play barking. Up until the very end, he was affectionate, always ready to give and receive hugs and kisses.
For about a week, he visited the vet daily for I.V. fluids (to prevent dehydration). Except for the last day and a half, he seemed like he was still feeling happy. Then, the final morning, after he’d gotten his fluids, he still didn’t want to eat. He started having symptoms for his vestibular disease, combined with his heart and kidney conditions, and he finally started to cry. I took him to the vet, and I told him I loved him while he died in my arms. Up until the very end, he never let anything get him down. He always loved everyone, and I don’t think I ever met a soul that didn’t love him back. He was a sweety-pie. We all loved him, and he’ll be sorely missed.
Rest in Peace, Winston.