"The earth laughs in flowers." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

(Will enjoys flowers from Kathryn Payne, a woman
in Colorado Springs, Colorado he's never met.)

I believe in happy endings.  I just never expected one for Will after meeting him for the first time when he was transferred to us in a Connecticut parking lot by a good-hearted trio from the New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue thirteen months ago.

After the five hour drive back to Jackson I was utterly depressed and wondered how long I should keep him alive for.  That’s how hopeless he was, how much pain he was in, how angry this little dog was.  I remember thinking, “What have I gotten us into?”

When we stopped along the Kancamagus Highway and I went to get him out of the car to stretch his legs he whipped his head around and sunk his teeth into my thumb, punctured a tendon, and held on for all he was worth.  At that moment something funny happened to me.  Instead of jerking back or getting angry with him I suddenly put myself in his place as my blood trickled down his throat. 

Here was a fifteen year old dog with cataracts and very limited sight.  He was deaf, in pain, and just a week or so before he’d been deposited in a kill shelter by the only family he’d ever known.  I imagined how I would feel.  Abandoned in a strange setting, cold, alone, without those he’d known for all those years.  It had to be a shock to him.  I imagined he felt betrayed, frightened, angry – and utterly alone.  Then when a good-hearted soul from the shelter knew how desperate his plight was they called NJSR and Will at least got out of the shelter but in his head he didn’t know his life had been saved. I imagine all he knew is that he was being shuttled from person to person on his way to ending up here in Jackson and that had to feel demoralizing.  He had, after all, lost his home, even if it wasn’t much of one.  Imagine how discarded and defeated he had to feel – how utterly empty and alone.

In those first few days I talked to our vet and wondered how long I should keep him alive for because yes, he was alive, but not a life I’d want or any animal should have to endure.  But I also continued to put myself in his place, even when he bit me as often as he did. 

The first morning in Jackson he thrashed as I carried him outside to go to the bathroom, shivered in the cool May morning air, and tried to bite me again as I held up his weakened hips as he went to the bathroom.  When we made it back inside I put him down and he came after me.  Atticus wisely jumped up on the couch as Will snarled and flashed his teeth. 

I ended up sitting on the floor in front of the couch and let Will approach me.  I let him set the pace.  Eventually I was petting him and he lay down in front of me and fell asleep with his paw on my leg.  I remember thinking, “I get it, Will.  You want to be in charge.  You want things on your terms.”

One week turned into two and I still believed we were only giving him a place to die with dignity.  But for some reason I spent the money to get his rotten teeth cleaned and had one painful one removed.  And each day, as much as he was everything Atticus wasn’t (and I don’t mean that in a positive way) I did my best to imagine what it was like to be Will. 

One morning Atticus and I came home from a walk and I noticed that this little deaf dog was sleeping with his ear pressed up against the leg of the coffee table and I knew then was feeling the vibrations coming from the speakers on top of the table as music played.  From that moment on Will always had music to listen to – or to feel. 

Soon after that I noticed him lingering in the backyard, even though he couldn’t stand in one place for very long, sniffing the wild flowers.  He’d do this whenever I took him outside.  So one day I bought him flowers and left them by his bed when he was sleeping and he woke up to them and buried his face in them and went back to sleep.  When he eventually got up to get a drink he returned to his flowers and lay down next to them with his cloudy eyes and rested his head in them.

From that moment on Will not only had music, he also had flowers nearby. 

Will’s come a long way since those first weeks.  The death row dog with little reason to live has embraced life.  He’s become loving and seeks out love.  He’s even become a fine teacher. He has overcome several serious obstacles many I know fail to clear as he shows us it’s never too live, never too late to love, never too late to be loved, and never too late to trust. 

Each morning, after he eats his breakfast, he comes over to the couch where I’m sitting with Atticus and he nudges my foot with his nose and I reach my fingers out to him and the mouth that used to bite now gently licks my fingertips and I know what he wants.  I pick him up and cradle his body against my chest and turn sideways so he can look outside.  He likes that even though all he seems to see are shapes and shadows and movement.  He puts his head side by side with mine and leans against me as he gazes silently for several minutes.  Eventually his head sags, his breathing gets deeper, and I’ll hear a snore.  Soon his head is resting on my chest over my heart and he’s in a little ball in my arms sleeping soundly and, more importantly, safely. 

And the little dog who didn’t ever seem to know when Atticus and I were coming going – or care, now comes out of the bedroom within a minute of us returning home on those occasions we go out without him. I tell myself he feels the vibration of the door closing.  And when he sees me he tries to jump up to say hello but his hips are too weak from all that time he had been kept in a crate to keep him out of the way.  So he does a succession of happy little bunny hops and he whimpers an equally happy song as he excitedly comes to me to play.  And those eyes that can’t see much, they are still clouded with cataracts, but they now shine with love and belonging. 

Last week I told a story on Facebook about how I get flowers for Will every week and how when we go to Carrie Scribner’s wonderful flower shop here in Jackson, Dutch Bloemen Winkel, the ladies started asking if the flowers are for Will.  If they are they go with even more fragrant flowers.  (I love that they ask!)

That’s how far Will has come in his new life.  People care about him.   Carrie and her staff care what he likes. He’s often mentioned by Roy Prescott on WMWV’s morning radio show here in the Mount Washington Valley, and was even a guest on it.  And whenever we stop at For Your Paws Only to buy food, if he is not with us, Kendra or one of the others will ask, “How’s Will doing?”  And if he is with us they fawn over him as he walks around the store.  And people around town now greet him as they’ve always greeted Atticus when we walk the loop with Will in his wagon.  “Good afternoon, Atticus.  Good afternoon, Will.  Hey, Tom.” 

It is a life reclaimed and one worth living and with it come’s a lot of happiness and laughter in our little home.  But last week there were tears too – however, they were happy ones.

You see, when I wrote about Will’s love of flowers and my ritual of picking them up for him each week, some were left on my car with an unsigned note – “For Will.”  The next day another bunch appeared with another note.  This time they were left on our stairs and the note said, “For Will, we know he loves his flowers.”  Then there was a knock on the door and there was Carrie with a beautiful arrangement sent all the way for Will from a woman in Colorado Springs.  Kathryn Payne and her boyfriend, Bryan Dresser, a member of the Air Force, follow us on Facebook and have become big fans of Will and Bryan saw to it that Will received flowers from Kathryn with a note that read, “We love you Will!” 

When Bryan read of Carrie’s Dutch Bloemen Winkel he quickly called and placed the order for Will. When I read that card and sat down on the floor with Will as he sniffed those beautiful flowers, my eyes filled with tears that came straight from my heart.    

Even more flowers came in over the next few days, all for Will, all from people who read about his love of them.  I put them in a vase (or a mason jar, since I’ve run out of vases), and Will sits in front of them as best he can (he can’t sit for long with those long-neglected hips) and he smells them and something tells me he thinks he's found heaven!

To this day I continue to put myself in Will’s place (just as I’ve always done with Atticus) as I did that first day he bit me.  The difference is that I no longer think of him being angry, frightened, abandoned, betrayed, and utterly alone in this world.  What I think of is how joyful he is and how he celebrates the little things in life, and how a once unwanted dog has turned into a much loved soul and not just here in our little home, but from people all around the country and even the world.  Somehow I believe he feels it. 

I do believe in happy endings and Will is proof that they do exist.  For once there was a little dog who was left to die – instead he chose to live!   

(If anyone in this world was made to work with flowers it's Carrie Scribner.  She has a gift that's as natural as it is unexplainable and we highly recommend Dutch Bloemen Winkel. Her website is www.dutchbw.com and the number is (603) 383-9696. Check her out if you need flowers in the Mount Washington Valley.  We're thrilled to have her just down the street in our little village!)