Abby my precious yorkie came into my life after of death of my son, Scotty. My friends and family scared for my well being sought out a distraction to help me cope. I went to a breeder with much distain but had decided on a female not a male dog. I remember I went into a room told the lady that I wanted to see only females and in ran this spit fire. I moved her to the side to see the others but, she stood in my face. I looked at my friend Terry and said this is the one. So, off we came home with this wild haired pup. I believe this little being knew how sad I was and had decided to make me come back into the world. When I cried she would lie next to me as if trying to take all my pain away.
Our first Christmas together was quite a disaster because in her wild pup style she ate a few Christmas decorations that Scotty had made. I remember my friend jumping in front of her because she thought I would kill her. I did lose it but in her style she would just get into my face and look at me with those human like eyes.
Our first years were precarious at best as she the “wild thing” went through life with no fail kind of motivating force that even others stood by in astonishment. I remember my vet, Dr. Maryjane telling me she will settle down at about 2 years. Our first winter together she would run and frolic in the snow and make snow angels like a steam shovel in movement. But hated her sweaters so much she would shred them if she got a hold of them.
When we moved into our house so she could have her own yard, she moved in the “wild thing” way. My mother said when she ran her bottom would be even with her front legs. Over the years she stayed the same and was always there for me during my grieving. She made me laugh because she would jump into my face and bark the loud bark. She would never allow me to get bogged down in depression.
As the years went by my constant was Abby, she would greet me even if I went to the mailbox like she was so excited to see me. On her last day on in our world she stood in the front yard happy to smell the air. My last look in her eyes was that of deep love and gratitude for letting me be her mom. She died in my arms and now my grief is inconsolable. I love you my little “wild thing”. I miss you.
With Love,
| Abby |
| Beth Willibaum |