Stories About the Weej – Volume One

Those of you who know us now are probably familiar with the three furballs in our house: Bella, our oldest dog, a 13 year old lab/Rottweiler/hound mix; Kaylee, our alpha, a 9 ½ year old Doberman/shepherd/dingo blend; and Harley, our big dude, a 9 year old full blooded English mastiff that used to belong to my co-worker Krystie.  If you’ve only known us for the last six years or so, however, you missed out on becoming familiar with our first dog, Luigi, or as we liked to call him, Weej.

There he is!

Weej was a special little monkey, and although we don’t really actively miss him being in our lives, he certainly brought a fair amount of laughter and hilarity into our house.  Weej was the first dog we adopted together, just a month or so after we became engaged in September 2002.  We went to the SPCA in Jacksonville, and the minute Chris saw him, he fell head over heels (me:  [pointing at Weej] “you want that one?  What about this one instead?”  Chris: “no.  I want Luigi.”  Me: [sigh] “okay”).  Being the contrarian individual he was (read: a$$hole), Luigi immediately decided I was his one true love and Chris was a very, very (very) distant second place.  We paid all the fees and headed out, needing to wait a few days for the applicable background checks before we could officially bring him home. 

Weej checking out his new little sister -

that's a teeny, tiny Bella puppy, right there.

On the big day, I was running a retreat, so Chris went to the pound to bring home our first fur-baby, a 1 ½ year old akita/pit bull mix with a bad hip and a worse set of habits.  To start, Weej somehow convinced Chris that he wasn’t capable of climbing the stairs to our second floor apartment, so Chris spent the day carrying an 80 pound dog up and down the steps to relieve himself (the dog, not Chris).  I came home from a day spent with 50 screaming 10 year olds and said, “this stops now.”  True to form, Weej said “okay Mom!” and happily walked up and down the stairs with me, all under his own power.

Such a mess

Another time, I remember coming home from work/class, to find Chris standing at the edge of the wooded area (we lived in Jacksonville, so it was a swamp) near our apartment, red in the face and hopping mad.  When I asked what the problem was, he sputtered that Weej happened to get off the leash on a walk and ran into the swamp; when I came home, Weej was standing about 20 feet away in the middle of the mud, staring directly at Chris as if teasing him to come on in and retrieve him (I vividly remember his blinding whiteness clearly standing out amongst the dark interior of the woods).  I took in the situation and climbed up into our apartment, returning with a box of dog biscuits.  I asked Chris if he’d tried this yet and shook the box of dog biscuits, calling out to Weej.  Weej went “okay Mom!” and trotted right out of the swamp straight to me, a bit muddier than normal but very pleased with himself.

"Whatever, Dad."

"okay, Mom!"

One time, we took a trip to Cedar Key, a small island along the Florida Panhandle.  Since our motel, the Faraway Inn, was pet friendly, we took Weej and Bella (who joined our family a few months after Weej) along.  They played in the Gulf and along the beach, and once we were done, we headed to the dog wash station at the facility to rinse them off before going back to our room.  I rinsed off Bella and took her back to the room, while Chris took care of Weej.  Bella and I waited and waited and waited some more, and when a substantial amount of time passed, I secured Bella in the room to go out and investigate the problem.  Around the corner came a screaming Chris with a dripping wet Weej suspended in his arms (have you ever seen a dog smile?  That dog was smiling ear to ear).  

Evidence of why everyone needed baths

Apparently, Chris rinsed Weej and when he turned to turn the hose off, Weej threw himself in the mud.  Chris turned the hose back on and rinsed him again, only to have the dog repeat the trick a second time.  Now furious, Chris rinsed Weej off again and this time, grabbed him in his arms (remember: 80 pound dog, dripping wet) to prevent him from re-muddifying himself while he turned off the hose.  I dried off Weej (Weej: “okay, Mom!”) while Chris took a much needed bath himself.

Romping in the waves!

Even though he was taken from us earlier than he should have been (by cancer), we have tons of stories about Weej and we’ll always remember the six or so years he spent as part of our family.  More stories will come up in subsequent blogs, I am sure!

Later!

Amy