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| Name: |
Woofy
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Age: |
Deceased, Nineteen years old
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| Gender: |
Male |
Breed: |
Dog |
| Home: |
San Jose, California, USA |
When
I was ten years old, I have a vague memory of my parents telling my
siblings and I that we were going to look at a dog. My memory of this day
is not entirely perfect, but of what I remember, it was amazing. We
travelled to Gilroy, CA from our home in San Jose. To us kids it seemed
like a long long way, but in reality it was only about half an hour. At
the time I didn't quite understand the concept of an animal rescue, but
certainly comprehended the fact that we were going to someone's house to
look at a dog. That in itself was exciting enough. When we got there,
there were many big dogs in the back yard, but we had come to look at the
little "inside dog" that lived with the kitties. His name was Wolf Man
Jack because, like the DJ of the past, he had a white stripe down the
center of his head. For short, his foster mom called him Woofy. I knew
immediately that he should be part of my family, and as my parents worked
out the adoption process I played with him. He liked to chase the small
kitty ball, and I remember, because of his long hair that nearly covered
his eyes, he ran into the leg of a coffee table, which I thought was
funniest thing.
Later I learned from my parents that someone had dropped Woofy into the
night deposit box of a shelter. He had been just totally abandoned at a
year old. He was house broken, calm, quiet, friendly, and entirely loving.
I could not figure out why someone would take such a wonderful dog and
just dump him like that. But at the same time, I have often thought to
myself that I am certainly glad that they did.
I am now 28 years old, and earlier this year, Woofy finally passed away.
But not after proving to be one of the greatest aspects of my life for 18
long years. As incredibly sad as I am to have lost him, I am much more
satisfied with the fact that my family and I were able to give him a
loving home for the majority of his life. I know that often times people
think that a rescue dog is so lucky to have found their perfect home, but
I think that it was so much more so that we were so incredibly lucky to
have wound up having him in our lives.
It took until about fourteen years for him to really start seeming like a true
senior, and he did end up getting a bit rickety and a little senile. But
he still loved his treats, he liked napping with me, and in a slow, old
way, he was still excited for his daily walk. In the end, it would take us
45 minutes to go a half mile, but I figured it was the least I could do
for him since he had given me so much without question.
I miss Woofy so much, and his loss was devastating. But so many great
memories with him will keep his memory alive forever. Also, he has made me
a lifelong "dog person" which has lead me to return to the same rescue
foundation to give a new little dog a nice home. At first, I felt like
adopting a new friend was as though I was trying to replace the
irreplaceable. But after a few months, I realized that it was his memory
that would live with me forever and a new friend was simply another
chapter, and is of no consequence to my love for Woofy.
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