Last night we said goodbye to Woodson
He was born the same week I first struck an arc in November of 2002…maybe even the same day but we can't be sure.
The runt of a litter whose siblings were all long adopted before Darla found him.
She brought him home in the pocket of her winter jacket.
A 6lb sick little mutt, but he grew up quickly.
He had an old soul and a young spirit, a combination that makes for the best people but even better dogs.
I've heard someone that loves dogs called a "dog person"; Woodson was a "person dog"
He loved people….he was never more excited than when meeting one of our human friends, that is until he saw them again.
Not that he didn't love his canine pals: Dakota, Lexie, Murphy, Nova, but mostly his late "uncle" Spunky
Every now and then someone(having never met him) would bristle when they heard he was part "pit bull"
Yeah, this is the dog that once caught a rabbit…so he could lick its stunned face.
Who barked back at a taunting squirrel…then ran and grabbed his rope toy and dropped it at the base of the tree as if to say "wanna play?"
Who when he'd find a fallen bird or injured mouse, he'd come find us and hound us until we got his message.
Who got tired of a husky "bullying" other pups at a dog park and rather than fight him, he pinned him to the ground until he stopped….
Who one late night ran out an open gate. We frantically began a rescue search…
When Darla found him he was walking between two young girls, happy as could be: "Miss, is this your dog? He sure is nice!"
Or another time he went "exploring" and a neighbor detained him in her foyer while her cats stared him down "Oh, he was a perfect gentleman!"
Too many stories to fit here….
Nobody that met Woodson did not love Woodson.
Even as he grew older he retained a puppy's demeanor, which made his last(of many) health battle so hard to take. It took it's toll.
"Dogs adapt, they overcome, they don't retain emotional baggage"…
sometimes true, more often than not just lies humans tell other humans to make our choices easier.
Neither of us were ready to let our boy go. We still aren't. We never will be.
But he was ready to go.
Rest in Peace, Woodson.