Today we put Wendell, our west highland white terrier, down. Wendell had been with us for just over fifteen years. On a cold winter evening one late December, Nedda and I went to a pet store in Schenectady. There were four 8 week old sibling puppies in the window of the store that had arrived that day. The clerk brought them all out for us to look at.
We picked out the most active puppy. The clerk gave him a bath, and we bought a toy for him. It was very cold, so on the drive home, Nedda snuggled him under her fur coat. We named him Wendell, the same name that we gave our first dog in the mid-1960s.At that time I had my law office in Executive Park North in Stuyvesant Plaza, just outside of Albany, New York. The next morning Nedda and I brought Wendell to work with us. We put a crate in the file room, but the puppy had the free reign of the office. Wendell immediately became a hit with the people who worked in the adjacent real estate management firm, and also with others who worked in the building, and even visitors to the various offices. Our office door was glass, and since our office was the closest to the front entrance, people would see the puppy as they came by, and many would open the door and ask if they could play with him. Some workers in the building would stop by regularly to give Wendell a belly rub, and frequently ask if he needed anything from the grocery store. Some people who didn't know us knew Wendell by name.
After a while, Wendell became trained, and we replaced the office carpet. Potty training Wendell was a chore. When we adopted Wendell, it didn’t occur to us, at least until we got home, that we would have to take him out into the cold for training. I spent most of the winter sleeping in a heavy sweatsuit. Making the training more difficult was Wendell’s refusal to relieve himself except on grass, and many a snowy evening I would get up from bed, put on a jacket and boots, and shovel snow until I exposed some grass for him. Wendell loved the snow, and he would put his head down into the snow and run, sending a plume of snow into the air ahead of him.
Wendell loved to ride in a car. On a couple of occasions when he went off on an adventure, we had to use the car to lure him back. He was willing to get into anyone’s open car door. Wendell was larger than many westies, about 25 pounds. Although the westie standard calls for a rough coat, Wendell’s coat was soft as mink.
Wendell was a true terrier. He loved to chase squirrels but would give frustrated barks when his prey would climb a tree. For several years he chased lizards in Florida. They usually outsmarted him. Once I saw him catch one, but he didn’t know what to do after catching it.
As he got older, he pretended not to see the lizards. It was probably an ego thing. Wendell did excel at one sport: he chased away airplanes. Whenever an airplane or helicopter flew over, Wendell would race outside into the fenced kennel area of our Florida home and bark, sometimes, leaping into the air, until the offending aircraft was out of sight. He would then return to the house, looking very self-satisfied. He had a 100% record - never once did an aircraft stay around after hearing Wendell’s menacing bark.Wendell wasn’t affectionate the way many dogs are. I don’t think he ever gave me a kiss or even a lick. He would just plop down next to me and roll over for a belly rub. He would bring a toy to have me throw it, and after chasing it he would bring it back, keeping it just out of easy reach. Lot of times he would bring me a toy, but not let go of it so that we would have a tug of war.
Wendell never learned many tricks. We trained him to go into the “down” position with just a wave of the index finger. Of course, he received a treat for each performance.
When Wendell was about 2-1/2 years old, we thought that he needed a companion, and Nedda chose a coton de tulear puppy from Canada. We were warned that bringing another dog into the house might create conflict as the new puppy would be encroaching on Wendell’s territory. The result was exactly the opposite. Wendell took a protective role and would chastise us if he thought we were mistreating Bijoux during her training.
As Bijoux got older, however, he lost interest in her, and in later years they never really played together.Although Nedda insisted on filling the dogs’ water bowls with bottled or reverse osmosis treated water, Wendell preferred to drink from the fish pond in our lanai, even if it had algae. After a meal, Wendell would trot out to the lanai for a drink, bypassing the clean, fresh water in his bowl. When we first put in the pond and stocked it with goldfish, Wendell tried to catch the fish. He stood at the pond’s edge, pawing at the water like a cat might do. During one of his efforts, he went head over heels into the pond. After that, he ignored the goldfish.
Although powerful for his size, Wendell was a gentle dog. When our grandchildren were toddlers, they could pull at his ears or try to ride him. He might try to move away, but he would never snap or growl. Whenever he was offered a treat, he would first sniff it and then open his mouth to await the offer. He was gregarious. He would entice a belly rub from everyone he met. Any overnight guests would find Wendell in their bedroom, and during his earlier years, when he was sprightly, he would join them in bed, and complain bitterly if he was not welcomed.
Like many of us as we age, Wendell had some physical difficulties. One year he suddenly started walking with a rear leg lifted. After some medication failed to relieve his symptoms, an x-ray revealed that he had a torn ACL. We were about to return to New York from our Florida home, and we took him to a veterinary surgeon in Vermont for the repair. A few months later, the same thing happened to the other rear leg, and a similar operation was performed in Florida. He recovered well, and after a while, he was able to resume jumping on and off the television room couch. During the past year or so, he was unable to jump, and would content himself with sleeping on one of several large dog beds in the house.
Last summer we noticed that Wendell started passing some blood in his urine. Our vet, Dr. Tracy Anderson, initially treated it as a urinary tract infection, but that didn’t cure the symptoms. During July, an ultrasound showed a tumor growing in the bladder. Dr. Anderson explained that the only possible cure would be to operate and remove the cancerous portion of the bladder, but cautioned that the tumor would probably reappear. Nedda and I decided against the operation because of Wendell’s age, then almost fifteen years old. Our vet said that untreated we could expect that he could live another three to six months.
We noticed that Wendell started sleeping more than usual, and didn’t show as much interest in hunting. More blood started appearing in his urine, but his appetite remained good and to look at him one would think him the picture of health. Then, a couple of weeks ago, Wendell became incontinent. Previously he could be left locked in the house for hours and never have an accident. He lost all control, and we would find bloody puddles in the house even if he had just come in from a walk or hunting in the kennel area. Nedda made belly bands for him to wear in the house, and during the day and night, we would take the belly band off when he was going outside, and put them back on, usually with a fresh pad, when he came back in. Additionally, it became very difficult for him to urinate. He would try every couple of minutes during a walk, but would usually only manage to pass a drop or two. His situation changed again recently, as he started a hacking cough, usually when getting up. Our vet said it could well be that the cancer is spreading into his lungs, or possibly congestive heart failure. After a conference, we decided that the time had come to put Wendell down before his suffering got worse. Dr. Anderson agreed to come to our home the next day.
Although many of our friends have had their pets cremated, we decided to bury Wendell in the kennel area of our back yard. For the past couple of years, Wendell would dig a shallow hole by the fence and lay in it. It was probably cool in the heat of the summer. We decided that would be the likely place to bury him, and this morning I dug a deep hole there. Wendell walked over and peered into the hole, and then proceeded to start a new hole next to it.
While waiting for our vet, I sat in the lanai and gave Wendell belly rubs and petted him. Our vet and a technician came to our house shortly after noon. We sat in the lanai, and Nedda held Wendell in her arms. Dr. Anderson inserted a hypodermic needle into a vein in his paw, while I petted his head. Almost immediately his eyes seemed to go vacant, and he went limp without a whimper. Dr. Anderson checked him with her stethoscope and said that his heart was still. I carried him to the grave, and laid him on his blanket and covered him with his towel. I filled in the grave and we planted a bird of paradise plant over it.
We really miss Wendell, expecting to hear his bark or see him edging up to the table waiting for a treat. I know that the hurt will fade, but for now, there is a big void.
Wendell Hunting Lizards
