I'm still searching for the first picture I was forwarded of a scrawny, sickly, dumpster diving dog the rescue group wanted us to foster. The laundry list of problems was LONG. He weighed a puny 36 pounds. Had heart worms and testicular tumors. We were supposed to be the pitstop for him, but after heart worm treatment almost killed him, they asked if he could live out this "short" life left with us. We were already in love, so of course said yes. How could we turn away this sweetheart given 3 months to live???
His health improved and we quickly realized we had a new family member that would (HOPEFULLY) be around for awhile. You know you're permanent when you get your own Yoda costume...
Before we knew how deathly afraid of water he was, we tried to keep him safe with a life jacket. All attempts backfired.
When we began preparing for Wade, Orwell was at our side painting the nursery and following us around the house. And as soon as Wade was born, he took on the role as big brother...
If I left Wade in his swing, he would lay dutifully at his feet until I returned. It was honestly like he was Wade's babysitter. When I would take Wade upstairs for a nap, Orwell followed and took his own nap right along side of the crib. They were best buds.
Orwell is a very depressed banana at Wade's first Halloween...
and not so excited about being a bug at Wade's first birthday...
But he always LOVED his cuddle time on the couch with Beau. They made a permanent groove in the couch...
Orwell's first snowfall...
As Wade became mobile, he used Orwell as a constant jungle gym....
Santa's furry elves...
By the time Bree joined the family, Orwell had slowed down a bit and wasn't able to follow Bree around (like earlier days with Wade) but I know he loved her just the same...
And she loved him too...
When I would tell people Orwell is 17 years old, they couldn't believe it. What Golden lives to 17?? But 17 is the young estimate! He was the healthiest old guy you'd ever meet, but his body just ever so slowly started giving out on him. From the outside looking in, it was easy to say "it's time, put him down". But for us, his decline was so slow and steady. We couldn't give up on him for having "just one more" accident in the house. He struggled, he barely made it outside to go bathroom (if at all!), he was blind. It was rough. But he also still had an appetite and still craved to be a part of the family. Somehow, he found enough energy and mobility to be at your feet whenever he got the chance. So yes, we dealt with the accidents.
Finally, we made the decision (after chickening out a few times). Beau and Wade pampered Orwell with a full spa night, complete with bath and blowout. Beau grilled him steaks and we gave him all the love he could handle.
Our sweet vet helped us with the procedure in the car and we were able to take Orwell to be buried with all of Beau's childhood pets at his parents. It was an awful gut-wrenching experience, but we made it as peaceful as possible. I'm crying now just writing about it and remembering, but I know that's only because he meant so much to our family.
Wade has an amazing understanding of heaven for a 5 year old. He likes to talk about Trevor, Grandma Marj and family members he never had a chance to meet...and how they're all together in heaven. So when he saw me crying, he made sure to tell me that Orwell is up in heaven too and now he can run REALLY REALLY fast. That's right Wade!
We love you Orwell and will miss your goofy ways and sweet spirit!
