In 2015, several weeks after we lost our dear boy, Buster, my hubby and I went on a trip to Marco Island. We needed to get away, grieve, and decompress from the great loss of our lives.

We always knew we’d rescue another pooch. And I had high expectations - I wanted another boy doggie, with short hair, and a laid back attitude. A coworker had recently rescued a dog from Northern Illinois, and she passed along the name of the woman who’d just received a litter of pups, who’d come up from Kentucky. In fact, the pups had been born in the van on the ride up north.

She shared a picture of a little white and brown hound mix that instantly melted my heart. His name was Wilbur. He was part of the Charlotte’s Web litter, with mom being Charlotte and his siblings being Templeton and Fern. How adorable, I thought. We should go see him.

Now go see him is always code for go get him. I knew right away he was the one, and when we arrived at the home where he’d been living the past several weeks, I instantly fell in love. He was tiny. Maybe five pounds. He sniffed around, all floppy and cute. I gave my husband a look he could only respond to with nodding. Yes, let’s take him home.

When Wilbur came home, Stella was suddenly, for the first time, the largest pooch in the house. Buster had been 80 pounds to her 8. Now she seemed to loom over this tiny little pup who couldn’t quite get his bearings. She might have given us a “what the heck is this” look at first, but in no time, the two were best friends.

Wilbur grew fast. And still, Stella would give us the look. By the time he was full grown he was about 45 pounds, but that didn’t stop Stella from giving him the business. He was such a good boy, he would let her think she ran the joint.

In April of 2019, we noticed a lump on one of Wilbur’s legs. After a few visits to the vet, we received the diagnosis that he had lymphoma. Lymphoma is incurable. The only thing we could do is try chemotherapy - which doesn’t have the same side effects it has on people - and enjoy what little time we might have.

It was a devastating blow. But we were able to have him with us, in remission, for almost a year. Much longer than we ever expected. As 2020 rolled in, a checkup revealed his lymphoma had returned. The second round of chemo didn’t help, and we were told to enjoy our time left. We got an additional three weeks.

The night he collapsed was the signal we were nearing the end. Two days later he had significantly stopped eating and we knew it was time.

With heavy hearts, on April 10th, we took him to the vet to assist him with crossing over the rainbow bridge. We were fortunate to be able to be by his side, sooth him as he drifted off, and say our final, heartbroken goodbyes.

There is a sweet story about a 6 year old’s wise words on the short life of a dog. He says, “People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life — like loving everybody and being nice all the time. Well, dogs already know how to do that so they don’t have to stay as long.”

We miss our baby boy. We still look for him on his spot on the couch, I wait for him to come running for an ice cube (one of his favorite treats), and we hear the bells on the door he’d ring to go outside.

Stella certainly misses him too. Her buddy has left, and it’s just not the same without him.