Our Darling.Last year in February we adopted a two and a half year old collie/shepherd mix, and named him Wordsworth. Wordy for short. When we were in the shelter all the dogs were going crazy just to see people, and our baby was just sitting there and looking at us quietly. We knew it had to be him.
I say we; he's mostly my brother's dog, though we all loved him very much.
He was over the moon to come home with us. I've never seen a dog love people so quickly. He didn't bark at all, but cried the first night we left him downstairs when we went to bed. Before long, though, he learned the routine and for months now he even goes to his cage before we tell him to, when he can tell we're going to leave.
He was the quietest dog I've ever known, too. He barked only out of suspicion. He'd growl playfully and make all sorts of noises when greeting us after we've been gone for a while, but for the most part he was silent.
He never understood how to get traction on the wood floor (which covers most of the downstairs) so he was constantly scrabbling and slipping.
He loved ice cubes and snow and bread. And babies. When my nieces visited, he was so patient with them. Even when the one-year-old grabbed his face, he just licked hers to make her stop. (She loved it.)
He was our baby. When I was home alone (which happened fairly often) I talked to him all the time. No, I'm not crazy, he just liked hearing people talk.
He liked being around people, too. He never wanted to go outside if he had to be alone. He was content to just lie down near somebody, so long as he was close to them. If we left for a while, and he was in the back yard, he would lie on the driveway and wait for us.
He loved my brother best, of course. They were close. When Wordy snatched an entire piece of pizza, my brother was able to literally reach into his mouth and take it from him.
My brother's in Kenya now. He has been for over a month, and will come home in about three weeks. Wordy missed him so much. Sometimes he would go outside by himself and lie on the driveway as if waiting for him to come back.
Then, yesterday, we came home after being gone about two and a half hours and Wordy was dead. There was no blood or vomit or any sign he'd eaten something bad. The vet says it was probably a heart attack (or something to do with the heart). We took him to my brother's girlfriend's family's place and buried him there, since they have a lot of land.
He was so young, and healthy. Nothing seemed to be wrong. When I think of how excited he would have been when my brother came home, how he'd leap up and cry with happiness, his tail wagging so hard his entire body moved; and now, that he died alone...
Wordy, baby, I love you. You're the best dog.