Nap Time With Whee-Zee
The best thing in the world happened in 1953. Something wonderful. A Boxer, my very own dog. Her name was Whee-Zee and she was so ugly she was pretty. She was my closest and dearest friend. She protected me from the legions of older kids who loved to terrorize the younger kids in town. Bullies named T-Bone and Tanker and Lucas and the infamous Goss Brothers. Whee-Zee was my armor, my shield. Raise your hand to me and feel her wrath. Whee-Zee went everywhere with me with total unconditional love. My companion in the woods and sleep-mate at nap time. In time she would love and protect my brother and our neighbors Susie and Paul Avis, but she was always my dog. Once when Whee-Zee was fed leftover spaghetti, Susie Avis decided to join her at the bowl. Most dogs would have growled their disapproval, but Wheez just moved over to give Susie some room.
Whee-Zee would try to follow me to school and I'd have to push and shove her back in the other direction. Some days her mind was her own, and there she was in the playground at the end of the day waiting for me.
She lived until I was 11. She eventually got so sick she had to be put to sleep. I can still feel the horror and the anguish watching her being taken away from me, head hung down, put into a van, never to be seen again.
I spent a long and lonely time in the woods and fields after that.
I still miss her deeply.
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