One day, I Will be the Eccentric Woman Rocking her Stuffed, Dead dog

February 6, 2015

Willie Nelson, the sweetest little man in the world.

Look at that face!  Can you imagine a sweeter soul if you try?  There isn't one.  Willie is the most loving, loyal, precious friend  that I have ever had, hands down.  He always has a smile on his face and is always the first to comfort me if I feel yucky or sad or when I've had a bad day.  He knows me better than I know myself most of the time.

I was never a person to have animals in the house, and if seven years ago someone had told me "One day you will be flying all over the place with a dog in a bag" I would have probably just slapped the stupid out of them.  But, alas, I now fly with a dog.

I drive across the country with Willie, he goes to the movies with us, and there aren't many restaurants that he hasn't graced. I even took him into a casino once. I almost took him to a funeral a few months ago when I didn't have a babysitter for him. Don't judge, he's probably more well behaved than 95% of the children I've met.

He's never been boarded in a kennel, because I think that would break his little heart in half and luckily, I usually have a list of people waiting to keep Willie when the opportunity arises, because they all love him like we do.

The other night we were doing some long term planning, we began asking questions like "What happens if we die before Willie? What will we do if he dies before us?  Where will we bury him? Will we bury him?  Will we cremate him and just carry him around with us for the rest of our lives? Can he be buried in a cemetery with our family?"

Jimbo and I were discussing all of this the other night and trying to figure out what would happen to Willie if we were killed together in an accident.  We haven't made provisions for his custody.  Who would get him?  How would he be taken care of?

Everyone thought that Leona Helmsley was crazy when she left $12mil to her Maltese, Trouble, and cut her grandchildren out of the will and evicted her son's widow from her apartment, but I do understand her love for the dog. I don't understand her doing this at the expense of her own grandchildren, but I understand her wanting her best friend taken care of in the manner to which he had become accustomed.

Every morning, I pick Willie up and he rolls over in my arms like an infant. I rock him for about 10 to 20 minutes.  He leans back, I rub his chest, and he snuggles his nose up next to mine- this is his safe spot. Sometimes I look into his sweet, innocent little black eyes and just well up with tears because he is so innocent and sweet and his love is so unconditional.  I will miss our morning snuggle time terribly if he goes before I do.  So, this morning, I was asking my friend, Kit, do you think it would be weird if I had him stuffed so I could rock him like that once he is gone?  Is that just crazy? And like any real Southern girlfriend would answer, she said...

"Well, there is nothing more Southern than rocking a stuffed, dead dog."

Here's to hoping our sweet Willie is with us for at least fifteen more years.  He has a lot of traveling left to do!

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