"Never lose hope, my heart. Miracles dwell in the invisible." ~ Rumi

Oh, the places he's gone.

Will has a birthday coming up. 

He’ll be seventeen on January 14.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he already is, and we missed the anniversary of the exact date he was brought into this world. 

As most of you know, Atticus and I adopted Will in May of 2012.  I think the date was the sixth.  A brief history: Will was dropped at a kill shelter in NJ by folks who (reportedly) had grown too old to take care of themselves, never mind him.  A kind-hearted shelter person feared no one would take this special needs dog who was deaf and mostly blind, not to mention partly infirm, and reached out to New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue.  The posted on their Facebook page how heartbreaking Will(iam)’s story was.  Sue Muller Weber, long a proponent of rescue and a fan of Following Atticus, posted the update on her Facebook wall.  Laura Bachofner, a friend of Sue’s who is also a proponent of rescue and a fan of Following Atticus, then shared the update on the Following Atticus page.  From there, the most unlikely thing happened. 

Atticus and I were quite content in our lives. We were hiking, enjoying the lack of drama from our Newburyport newspapering days, and thriving in the quiet country life.  Yet something within me saw this old dog’s plight and decided that we would give him a home in which to die in.  I didn’t expect him to last very long; no one did, really, and so I accepted the fact that Atticus and I were taking on a hospice case.  All I wanted for Will was to be able to die with dignity and not the sense of betrayal and/or abandonment that I imagined he was feeling.  (There’s much more to this story, but I will go into with our next book.) 

Here it is January of 2014, and Will is as happy as he’s ever been.  Instead of dying, he decided to live, and that is fine with me. As I said to him from the moment he took his first faltered steps in redefining his life, “You can leave whenever you wish, but feel free to stay as long as you want.  You have a home here.” 

His journey has been remarkable, and his steps in re-defining himself will also be written about in the next book (along with many other things) so I will not go into them here. 

As for his birthday, no one knows exactly when it is.  All that was written down when he came to live with us was that he was fifteen.  Some who are hardcore into rescue wrote to tell me his birthday is the day Atticus and I took him into our home, for that’s what they always do.  No disrespect to them, or anyone else who practices this belief, but that doesn’t work for us. 

The way I see it, Will came into our lives that first week of May, 2012.  He had a long history before that, even if no one really knows what it entails.  Who was I to ignore that?  So I came up with a date at random, with no special meaning, and chose it as his birthday: January 14^th. 

Okay, it really does have a special meaning for me.  It was my way of respecting that he had a life before us – this is something I’ve always tried to remember.  And I’ve done my best to respect his unique journey and how it differed from our or anyone else’s.  (This is the reason our moderators quietly delete comments about either Atticus or Will saying anything like, “I have/had a dog just like him.” 

I believe that journeys are unique, whether they are taken with two feet or four. 

But all of this is nothing more than details and details don’t always matter.  I really don’t care what date Will was born.  What I care is that he had a life, it seemed to come to an end, and he could have given up, but instead he chose to extend his last chapter to create several more.

As for Will’s celebrated birthdate, I know there are many who will want to send him something, but what I’d prefer is that perhaps you wear his shirt, drink out of his mug, remember the individual he is, and if that is not enough and you want to do something special, reach out to the animal shelter of your choosing and make a donation in Will’s name, or maybe even adopt a senior dog yourself.

Taking in a senior dog can be expensive.  It can be challenging.  It can wear you down.  But it can also reward you in priceless other ways, give you reason to celebrate as you clear each hurdle together, and it can renew an animal’s faith in humans, not to mention renewing yourself a bit. 

Thank you for caring about Will. 

Onward, by all means,
Tom