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| Disney, 2002-2016, Photo Wendy Lynne Lee |
Dashing out the door, rain or snow or fog, Disney was ever on-the-job, conducting her perimeter check with the fervor of a soldier charged with guarding the gates of the queendom. Three dogs in tow, Mr. Luv-Lyte, Ella Mae, and Jenny, the fact that Disney was the smallest of her motley crew made not one whit of difference. The squirrels must be banished! The sacred yard must be protected!
And protect she did. Indeed, even as my precious baby got a bit older, even after she had to see the loss of nearly all her teeth, even as she began to develop the first shadows of cataract, she retained that special dignity reserved to dogs--that stately demeanor that informs us that their companionship makes us the luckiest critters on the planet.
And strikes fear into the hearts of squirrels.
Among the few who've come to this "forever home" as a pup, Disney was a puppy mill replacement dog. Not that any dog, or for that matter, any animal can ever be a "replacement." Indeed, that idea is as noxious as the people who'd see such lovely creatures as dinner or a coat.
Disney was no "replacement." She was magnificent.
Disney was the queen of her world--a house, a quarter of an acre, four dogs, two cats, and three birds. Disney was my beautiful huntress, the protector of hearth and home, my smiling and ever-wise companion. My constant reminder that some love is unconditional--embraced for just that reason.
Cancer, on the other hand, is a fiend, a robber, and a homicidal maniac. How dare it take my dog from me. How dare it bend the world to its own distorted and desolate physiognomy.
Even love cannot conquer this fiend. But what it can do is remind us that where we are lucky enough to enter upon each day through the smiling faces of a beautiful creature like Disney, we are lucky beyond measure.
Good night my precious baby, my protector, my squirrel chaser.
Good night, my "Dis."
I love you.
Wendy Lynne Lee
