Wesley

Yesterday I lost one of my best friends, and my only running partner, my 8 year old dog, Wesley. He was also a great body guard and security system, even though he was actually a big sweetheart. I always felt safe running out in the woods with him, because he had a ferocious look about him when he was being defensive. However, in reality, he was afraid of roosters and would usually run away if we ran into other dogs out there.

We got Wesley from the Humane Society animal shelter when he was three months old, several months after  our 16 year old dog, Cody, died. Wesley had already had a rough life, living on the streets, and there was something wild and weird in his character that we were never able to extricate, no matter how much love and security we gave him. He was especially weird about food. In fact, just last week while we were out, he ate an entire extra large bag of English muffins off the counter. He had a great weakness for baked goods.

People either loved or hated Wesley. Those who feared him threatened to shoot him. Eventually someone did. Those who loved him knew him as an overly affectionate dog who was great with kids, letting them climb all over him without the slightest grumble. When we were away during the day, he would lay on the most comfortable bed in the house, ours, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. He had such keen hearing that he would be up and waiting at the window downstairs before we got in, but we could always tell by the hair on the bed. He never missed "story time" at night when we put the kids to bed.

We never knew what kind of dog Wesley was, but he got many compliments on how beautiful he was. I have often thought that he must be part pitt bull, because of his personality and massive jaw. If you have ever loved a pitt bull you know that they can be the sweetest most lovable creatures, and then turn into terrifying monsters if provoked. But of all the animals/dogs we looked at to try to figure out what Wesley was, the one he most resembled was a dingo:

Which of course brings to mind the line "maybe the dingo ate your baby." (These last two pictures are of actual dingos, not Wesley, although it is hard to tell the difference.)

Of course the animal shelter called him a "husky cross." They couldn't very well advertise that they were giving away dingos, I suppose.







Wesley will be missed by all who loved him, most of all me.