Taking you in the past... I used to have at one point two dogs, the most unusual pair someone could imagine - a toy yorkiepoo, Betsy, and a Great Dane/Newfoundland mix, Thor.They were best buddies since Thor was 3 months old. Betsy was almost 5 years older than him.
I will skip over how I got them and other stories, and just mention that at one point, when Betsy was 16 years old, out of fear that if she's going to die, Thor will also die of a broken heart, I adopted a lurcher (greyhound and terrier mix) baby girl, Maya. She was essentially raised by Thor.
Then in 2005, right after Thanksgiving, Betsy went to the Rainbow Bridge, two months short of her 20th birthday. The other two mourned for over two months - Thor more than Maya, understandable.
Then the next year, in the beginning of fall, one of Thor's back knees all of a sudden got all swollen. A trip to the vet and an Xray confirmed that he had a very advanced osteosarcoma - he had no knee, really, the whole end of the femur was a huge tumor. The vet told me that the leg would have to be amputated and he would have to go on chemo, but at 16 1/2 years old for that size of a dog (Thor weighed in his good days 125 lbs) he would probably not survive the surgery, and given the size of the tumor she was sure it was metastasized.
I agonized for three days over the decision and finally I had to put him to sleep. He couldn't walk anymore and was in pain.
I took Maya with me when he was put to sleep, so she could be there for him and kiss him good bye.
It was a good thing - she only mourned for a few days, and from the day I brought home his ashes, she started being fine.
But she was bored. Raised in a house with other two dogs, she was alone for 10 hours a day when I was gone to work. So I decided to get her a friend, in January 2007.
We went together around to local pounds and shelters. She was the one who was supposed to choose her friend, not me.
I was honestly aiming for another senior gentle giant, but we couldn't find one. Finally we got home with an adorable loveable 1 1/2 years old mastiff mix. He was awesome, obedient, housebroken, everything, only that.. when they started playing, and he playfully put his paw on her, Maya flew 3 yards back, head over heels. I realized he was too big and too playful and she could get hurt unintentionally, of course.
So the next day I took him back to the shelter (they have a foster with adoption intent program) and gave him the best references (he was adopted the next day) and then looked a bit more to the dogs they had there.
And in one cage, in a corner, all sad, sat what looked like a greyhound puppy. All the other dogs were at the door, trying to get to me and being happy. Only the little one was in the farthest corner, looking dejected at the ground.
I went back inside and asked to see him. He was brought to me, his eyes were staring somewhere in the distance, oblivious to everything and everyone. He was registered as "whippet mix" and I found out his story. Apparently he was an owner surrender. He had belonged to an old man who was wheelchair bound. Why would a person who is in a wheel chair want a racing dog, beats me. Whisper (at the time his shelter name was Devo) had never been outdoors. His paw pads were as smooth as a baby's behind. But that was just the beginning of the story. The old man had a bum of a son, and alcoholic who was into dog fighting. And had a pitbull "puppy" about a year old. And every time he was visiting his father, Whisper was used as "training bait" for his pitbull. That is where all the scars covering his throat and face were from.
I signed the papers for him and brought him home. I placed him on the couch, wrapped in my woolen jacket. He stood there for almost two hours, staring somewhere in the distance, watching something only he could see. Still oblivious to everything and everyone. I tried feeding him. He didn't even sniff the food. I tried putting it in his mouth. It dropped. He hadn't even budged.
I let him sit on the couch, and from time to time I'd stop and pet him and gently talk to him.
After two hours, he finally moved. He slowly started exploring the house. Then found the bedroom. And under the bed he went.
I didn't try to get him out. I placed a dish of food and another one of water under the bed (I had a very tall bed). Then, after some thought, I also took a stuffed teddy bear someone had brought me as a gift, and placed it on the floor, with one paw under the bed skirt. The teddy bear slowly disappeared under the bed. It was Whisper's friend and companion he took everywhere with him for the next month. But that was later.
Anyway. That evening I went to bed, and as usual, Maya jumped in bed and laid at my feet. About 10 minutes after I had turned off the light, I felt Whisper jumping in bed too. After a bit of sniffing around, he went under the covers, wormed his way up my body until his little head rested on my shoulder and there he gave a big sigh, and he fell asleep.
And that is how Whisper came into my life. A little dog who was so dejected and had been so abused. It took him 3 months before he barked for the first time - I thought at one point they had de-barked him. He would communicate only by putting his head near mine and sighing loudly - that's why I named him Whisper.
It took him 6 months before he wagged his tail for the first time. Even now, after so many years, when I see his little white-tipped tail wagging, my heart swells with joy.
He made friends with Maya instantly. Well, he became real fast the leader of the pack. Maya was so gentle and good-natured she would let him do anything he wanted.
They slept together
Played together
Discovered things together
Ate carrots together
And overall, loved each other very much
And so the years have passed. My fearful little deer after a while was even able to go out for walks - in the beginning he would freak out every time I tried to take him out of the house.
But after years and years, he conquered his fear and enjoyed going with Maya on walks in the neighborhood.
Then back in November 2013, in the first day of freezing of that winter, I heard little desperate meows at the entrance door. Two kittens, cuddling in the cold, scrawny and covered in fleas.
And that is how Conor and Seamus joined the family.
On the way to the vet for their first check-up
Then in 2015 Maya started going downhill. She became senile. Then started having problems walking. Then in January 2016, one day, her read end fell to the floor. She had paralyzed. I had to put her to sleep. She joined her friends Betsy and Thor at the Rainbow Bridge.
Then it was just Whisper and the Twins (I call them the Twins but they're not even brothers, Conor is about 2 months older than Seamus). Whisper is more bonded with Conor. Seamus was more bonded with Maya, he cried for her for weeks when she passed. Amazingly their furs matched too - Whisper and Conor's and Maya and Seamus's.
Now it seems it's time for Whisper to leave me. In October he was diagnosed with liver cancer and was given 2 months to live.
I've switched him to a special diet and he's still alive, and his liver enzyme levels went down, almost to normal.
Why did I write all this?
Because two days ago he started having digestive issues again. That can be the sign of liver failure. Maybe I just wanted to reminisce all these years past.
Maybe because I wanted you to know why Whisper is such a special dog. And so important to me.
My little deer.
