Beautiful, beautiful essay. My bestest cat Binzer died this January 4th at age 21; we put him to sleep, having made the call every bit as reluctantly as you have done or will do with Westley. He made it long enough for my older son to return from college for Christmas break, and to collect that extra amount of love, before the fullest collapse set in. I know you got Westley every bit of love he was prepared for as well.
We have other cats, who are lively and provide their own entertainment and snuggles, and they reacted in their own way: Belvedere, after Jan. 4, started waiting anxiously for Firchimara to join him upstairs every night, pacing around like "I'm not going to lose you too, am I?" It still sometimes feels wrong to teach a lesson over Zoom without Binzer attending to every word, or to cook on the stovetop without having to donate a small trickle of vegetable oil for Binzer to lap up. Every animal makes its own irreproducible quirks, and it's always good to be grateful for the ones they've made the time to share with us, while they, and we, were up for it.
Breaks my heart too. Our 12 year old pup passed 10 days ago and I was thinking about your Westley. It’s been difficult. I know what you are going through. The house just isn’t the same without them.
Today I met Kiki- half Bulldog half poodle! Never met one of those before. I also met his mum, the Bulldog, whose name escapes me because she was so busy pestering me for pets I couldn’t follow their humans conversation. Later in a business meeting I was told about Bruno, a K9 who was investigating a mysterious package on an overpass on I80 near Park City. Bruno got distressed by the traffic and jumped the wall and fell 35”. Somehow he survived and was airlifted to a vet where he is recuperating! I promptly turned on the tears.
And now hearing about Westley’s antics and foibles just makes me smile.
Very sorry for your loss Joe and family, of a good boy.
Ach, Joe. I feel for you. Losing a dog is so damned hard.
There’s a legend that when Adam and Eve sinned, God drove a chasm into the earth with Adam and Eve on one side and the animals on the other, staring at each other. At the last possible moment, the dog jumped across to the other side.
It is never easy to say goodbye to your family pet. We had to do it with our little Bichon Frise, Lily, at age 17 1/2. We had asked our vet, isn't there anything we can do to help her and make her feel better without having to put her down? The vet told us we had done everything we could for her and tha she had as good a life as a pet can get. I was with her when she crossed the rainbow bridge. I didn't want my wife and girls to have to go through it. I held her and kept telling her we loved her as she took her final breath.
Our cat was old though we thought healthy, but when we went to Hawaii last winter, she didn't take to it well. Then our kids, who live a short distance away, had a pipe freeze and so moved into our house for a few days while it was fixed. Tinker loved having our granddaughters around. There's a photo of her sitting on the blow up bed the girls slept in together. She looked happy. She died two days later. I still expect to see her every time I come back into the house.
It's never easy to say goodbye, but we owe it to them to give them as good an end as we can. <3 (Funny your thought he would bark at you if you strayed from work. Writer Mary Robinette Kowal, who has a cat who communicates with buttons named Elsie, also had a dog named Guppy, and she's training Guppy to be a service dog who will stop her from doomscrolling. I think it's going to work!)
Westley reminds me a lot of my one pet, a hybrid of collie, huskie, and Bernese, who I named Grimstone (after an obscure 17th century British MP). As a graduate student in Hamilton, Ontario, I thought a dog would be a good companion, so I went to visit the city pound. All the dogs were at the front of their cages, barking excitedly; sitting at the back of his cage, paying absolutely no attention to me, he caught my attention. I paid for the licence and the leash, and an attendant opened the cage and tried to coax him out. I was told that he had been abused by his previous owner. As we were walking toward the car, he pulled the leash from my hands and ran back toward the kennels.
Eventually, he sort of settled in the flat, but on many nights when a let him out in the yard, he'd find a way out, sometimes digging under the fence. One morning I found him curled up on the yellow line separating four lanes of traffic coming into Hamilton at rush hour. On another morning, after one of his adventures, I found him curled up on the doorstep; there were thirteen dog dishes on the lawn some with food still in them, and a number of people angrily approaching the yard.
As winter came, I bought a sturdy and spacious doghouse (with aluminum siding and a shingled roof), but Grimstone preferred digging a shelter in the snow for himself. He stayed with my family while I was in England, completing my Ph.D. research, and he loved the steady stream of Milk-Bones and walks with retirees who let him decide when the walk was over. He spent his last ten years with me in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where a strict but wise German dog trainer showed me everything I was doing wrong. At the end of the course, Grimstone, the mutt, outperformed the handsome, well-bred Grand Pyrenees who had been the darling of the course.
He was wonderful companion to me and to my daughter for her first four years, before illness overtook him. The vet advised against an operation, saying that he'd likely not survive the anaesthetic. I never got another dog but was happy to look after the dogs of my friends when they needed a break.
Your piece on Westley really touched me, and I offer sincerely condolences on his passing. From one passionate Indians/Guardians fan to another and one Browns fan to another (despite my becoming less passionate after 1964, still less so after the release of Bernie Kosar, totally disgusted with Art Modell in 1995, and ashamed that the successor Browns from 1999 to this past Sunday share the name of the team that once featured Jim Brown, Leroy Kelly, Paul Warfield, Bobby Mitchell, Lou Groza, and Otto Graham).
I'm not crying...your crying
RIP Westley
Beautiful, beautiful essay. My bestest cat Binzer died this January 4th at age 21; we put him to sleep, having made the call every bit as reluctantly as you have done or will do with Westley. He made it long enough for my older son to return from college for Christmas break, and to collect that extra amount of love, before the fullest collapse set in. I know you got Westley every bit of love he was prepared for as well.
We have other cats, who are lively and provide their own entertainment and snuggles, and they reacted in their own way: Belvedere, after Jan. 4, started waiting anxiously for Firchimara to join him upstairs every night, pacing around like "I'm not going to lose you too, am I?" It still sometimes feels wrong to teach a lesson over Zoom without Binzer attending to every word, or to cook on the stovetop without having to donate a small trickle of vegetable oil for Binzer to lap up. Every animal makes its own irreproducible quirks, and it's always good to be grateful for the ones they've made the time to share with us, while they, and we, were up for it.
Breaks my heart too. Our 12 year old pup passed 10 days ago and I was thinking about your Westley. It’s been difficult. I know what you are going through. The house just isn’t the same without them.
Today I met Kiki- half Bulldog half poodle! Never met one of those before. I also met his mum, the Bulldog, whose name escapes me because she was so busy pestering me for pets I couldn’t follow their humans conversation. Later in a business meeting I was told about Bruno, a K9 who was investigating a mysterious package on an overpass on I80 near Park City. Bruno got distressed by the traffic and jumped the wall and fell 35”. Somehow he survived and was airlifted to a vet where he is recuperating! I promptly turned on the tears.
And now hearing about Westley’s antics and foibles just makes me smile.
Very sorry for your loss Joe and family, of a good boy.
Ach, Joe. I feel for you. Losing a dog is so damned hard.
There’s a legend that when Adam and Eve sinned, God drove a chasm into the earth with Adam and Eve on one side and the animals on the other, staring at each other. At the last possible moment, the dog jumped across to the other side.
Peace
So sorry for your loss
What a beautiful tribute to a very Good Boy. Condolences to you and your family.
Hugs, good sir. My condolences to you and your family.
Rest in peace and chocolate dear Westley 🫶🫶🫶
It is never easy to say goodbye to your family pet. We had to do it with our little Bichon Frise, Lily, at age 17 1/2. We had asked our vet, isn't there anything we can do to help her and make her feel better without having to put her down? The vet told us we had done everything we could for her and tha she had as good a life as a pet can get. I was with her when she crossed the rainbow bridge. I didn't want my wife and girls to have to go through it. I held her and kept telling her we loved her as she took her final breath.
Our cat was old though we thought healthy, but when we went to Hawaii last winter, she didn't take to it well. Then our kids, who live a short distance away, had a pipe freeze and so moved into our house for a few days while it was fixed. Tinker loved having our granddaughters around. There's a photo of her sitting on the blow up bed the girls slept in together. She looked happy. She died two days later. I still expect to see her every time I come back into the house.
It's never easy to say goodbye, but we owe it to them to give them as good an end as we can. <3 (Funny your thought he would bark at you if you strayed from work. Writer Mary Robinette Kowal, who has a cat who communicates with buttons named Elsie, also had a dog named Guppy, and she's training Guppy to be a service dog who will stop her from doomscrolling. I think it's going to work!)
When she trains her furry friends to mix all cocktails from her book The Spare Man, I’ll be impressed!
A lovely, heartbreaking goodbye to your family’s companion. Thanks for sharing your good boy with us. May he rest in peace.
Westley reminds me a lot of my one pet, a hybrid of collie, huskie, and Bernese, who I named Grimstone (after an obscure 17th century British MP). As a graduate student in Hamilton, Ontario, I thought a dog would be a good companion, so I went to visit the city pound. All the dogs were at the front of their cages, barking excitedly; sitting at the back of his cage, paying absolutely no attention to me, he caught my attention. I paid for the licence and the leash, and an attendant opened the cage and tried to coax him out. I was told that he had been abused by his previous owner. As we were walking toward the car, he pulled the leash from my hands and ran back toward the kennels.
Eventually, he sort of settled in the flat, but on many nights when a let him out in the yard, he'd find a way out, sometimes digging under the fence. One morning I found him curled up on the yellow line separating four lanes of traffic coming into Hamilton at rush hour. On another morning, after one of his adventures, I found him curled up on the doorstep; there were thirteen dog dishes on the lawn some with food still in them, and a number of people angrily approaching the yard.
As winter came, I bought a sturdy and spacious doghouse (with aluminum siding and a shingled roof), but Grimstone preferred digging a shelter in the snow for himself. He stayed with my family while I was in England, completing my Ph.D. research, and he loved the steady stream of Milk-Bones and walks with retirees who let him decide when the walk was over. He spent his last ten years with me in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where a strict but wise German dog trainer showed me everything I was doing wrong. At the end of the course, Grimstone, the mutt, outperformed the handsome, well-bred Grand Pyrenees who had been the darling of the course.
He was wonderful companion to me and to my daughter for her first four years, before illness overtook him. The vet advised against an operation, saying that he'd likely not survive the anaesthetic. I never got another dog but was happy to look after the dogs of my friends when they needed a break.
Your piece on Westley really touched me, and I offer sincerely condolences on his passing. From one passionate Indians/Guardians fan to another and one Browns fan to another (despite my becoming less passionate after 1964, still less so after the release of Bernie Kosar, totally disgusted with Art Modell in 1995, and ashamed that the successor Browns from 1999 to this past Sunday share the name of the team that once featured Jim Brown, Leroy Kelly, Paul Warfield, Bobby Mitchell, Lou Groza, and Otto Graham).
So sorry for your loss. Its a mitzvah giving a pooch a good life, but they give it back it spades. I hugged my (3) pups a bit harder today.