She Was Never Just a Dog

Today I want to talk about those wonderful creatures who wander into our lives and somehow give them extra meaning.
This one is about Wednesday.
Wednesday was a pit bull mix who belonged to Jefferson. Before she ever belonged to us, she belonged to nobody who deserved her.
Jefferson was volunteering at the city dog shelter when he noticed her. She had been abused. She had spent her entire life outside, chained up. When the Cleveland City police incarcerated her owner on drug trafficking , Wednesday was taken to the pound. That was the first time she was given even a chance.
(Fun fact: There was another dog on the property named Pugsley. We don't know what became of him.)

Bob has a strict "No Animals on the Furniture" rule. It didn't go so well.
She didn’t trust anyone. Not at first. She didn’t know how to walk on a leash. She didn’t know what safety felt like. But Jefferson kept showing up. Day after day. Month after month. He worked with her patiently until she could finally walk beside him. Underneath all that fear was a dog bursting with energy who loved people. She just happened to start life with a terrible one.
Jefferson’s love for her became relentless. He went to the shelter daily and walked her as if she were already his. Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask me and Bob if we’d be open to having a dog in the house. I was a yes from the first second. To my surprise, Bob was too.
It didn’t take long for Wednesday to move in and take over our hearts.
She taught all of us about patience. Patience with her, and patience as we watched her learn to trust us back. She was curious. Watchful. Always taking in the world like it might change its mind at any moment.

She loved Salt Lake Chris. But then, who doesn't?
When we owned the kilt company, we took her with us. She’d sit in our booth, calm as could be, waiting for people to come love on her. And they always did. She was a well-traveled dog. Kentucky, many times. She loved Kentucky. Palm Springs, once, where Jefferson explored parts of the Southwest with her. Those days are still some of his favorite memories. She came with us to Gettysburg, too. Honestly, she probably traveled more than most Americans.

She was a staple at our photoshoots and she loved being photographed

What I loved most was knowing exactly where I stood with her. I was always her number two. Jefferson was her rough-and-tumble person. Her adventure buddy. But when she needed quiet, she came to me.
On winter mornings, I’d warm blankets on the radiators. When Jefferson took her outside, I’d pull those blankets off the radiator and spread them on the couch beside me. When she came back in, she’d run straight over, jump up, and I’d wrap her tight like a little burrito. She’d let out this long, heavy sigh, like she’d worked a full shift somewhere important, and then she’d fall asleep.

A little over a year ago, things started to change fast. Her face was already gray, and we knew time was short. In the last week, she lost interest in food. On her final day, I went to Wendy’s and got her a double cheeseburger and fries. Her favorite. I sat on the floor at Jefferson’s house and fed her, but the food kept falling from her mouth. Her muscles had given up. Everything frightened her. We think she lost much of her sight. Walls became strangers. No position felt right.

That night, around ten, Jefferson called. I could hear his voice crack. They had found a vet who would help her cross the rainbow bridge. His wife Kathleen and I went with him. The car ride was quiet in that heavy, unbearable way. I sat with Wednesday in the back. When we arrived, we carried her in, each of us holding her, trying not to cry.
It was quick. One shot. She went to sleep and didn’t wake up.
I’m sharing this because Michael mentioned her in the chat and didn’t know she was gone. It brought all of this back in the best and worst way. Our lives are richer because of animals like her. That’s why I chose to memorialize Wednesday on the headboard. She earned her place there.

So if you’ve got a dog, or a cat, or any creature who chose you, give them an extra squeeze today. One for Wednesday.