Winston, a Jack Russell/birddog mix that I fostered in 2013-14. He kept me on my feet while winning a place in my heart.
Goodbye, Winston.
When I agreed to foster Winston early in December, 2013, I thought he’d be around only a few weeks. He stayed four months.
Just out of a bad situation of neglect, he was so happy to have a home, people to love—and a name—that he followed my every step. I’m sedentary, though, and my steps are slow. He needed playmates.
Now he has them. He has a forever family with three dogs, five children plus an exchange student and all their friends in and out—Grand Central of activity. No lack of attention and affection. He’ visited for play dates for several weeks, so he already knew them.
And what else was good? They lived just a few houses away from me so I thought I could still get my Winston-fix on occasion.
And I did a few times. Then we moved in 2014.
Yesterday I yearned to see Winston again. Wondered if he would remember me after so long? If he would come running to me, his tail wagging?
The house was stripped of its stucco. It appeared empty and abandoned. No family. No children. I felt empty also.
Goodbye, Winston.
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