Winston

My Dog Winston


Winston’s tongue hung half way to the ground dripping dog drool onto the once green grass now fading with the season change. Both ears were cocked slightly upward and his eyes locked squarely on the tennis ball in my left hand.
I’m not sure why the neighbor’s gave him the name Winston. Maybe it was for Winston Churchill. Maybe they smoked Winston cigarettes. Maybe they just thought Winston was a good name for a dog. Who knows? Whatever the reason the name always fit him perfectly.

When he followed our neighbor’s home he was barely 2 months old. A white pit bull puppy with one brown spot over his right eye, and one, slightly larger brown spot on the middle of his back. He looked a little malnourished and you could tell he was hungry but other than that he was reasonably healthy for a stray. The neighbors posted signs but after two weeks no one had come. My roommates and I agreed to take him in to save him from the pound. I had heard rumors that they put pit bulls down at the pound without even trying to adopt them.

Right from the beginning it was fairly obvious that he had been abused. Pit bulls are known for being aggressive but Winston was the complete opposite. He was very afraid of humans. Any sudden movements or any loud noises and he would run and hide behind our couch. If anyone tried to pet him or touch he would curl up in a little ball and shake. He was not house trained at all and at least three or four times a day things around the house would literally scare the piss out of him. He was very submissive and almost anti-social. He never made a sound. No barking, growling, whimpering or snoring. Even when the dog next door would bark and howl at the moon until 4 a.m. Winston never even acknowledged his presence. My roommates and I concocted the story that he was probably bread for fighting but may have been the runt of the litter and was abandoned.

Through countless hours of petting him, talking to him and holding him on my lap while I watched TV, Winston’s demeanor slowly started to change. He started allowing people to pet him when he realized there was no danger and he learned to sit by the back door whenever nature called.  Though still timid and shy, he was not terrified when someone new would come over or when one of my roommates dropped a piece of silverware in the kitchen. He became friendlier and his tail started to wag more. I spent more time with him than any of my roommates and I was definitely his favorite. Whenever I came home from work or school Winston would be waiting by the door. My roommates said that when I would leave he would lay by the front door and would not move till I returned. Every time I walked into my house Winston could not contain his excitement and would jump up and down wagging his tail and smiling.

A year passed. Winston’s puppy face was gone but his adult face was just as cute. He had filled out nicely and at last check weighed in at a solid 55 pounds. His shoulders were wide and bulged with thick layers of muscle. Muscle also encased his hind quarters. He was strong as an ox and had the jaws of a lion. One of his favorite games was when I would hold a stick, let him bite it, and then spin him around in the air, all four feet just waving in the wind. Pit bulls can lock their jaws shut and once they get a hold of something they want, there is no letting go. Though he had the power and ability to rip a man’s limbs off, he never even so much as barked at a person. My roommates and I always joked that if someone ever broke into our house, Winston would probably lead them around and show them where all the best stuff was.

By now Winston was my best friend and I was his. I taught him how to sit, lay down, roll over, shake, beg, and even speak on command, though he did not like barking and would avoid it if at all possible. Every night he slept next to my bed on a pallet I had made from old blankets and towels.

October 10, 2005 was a big day. All my friends came over to watch Texas Tech play Nebraska. The QB threw a touchdown pass on 4th down with 20 seconds left in the game. We were ecstatic. After making a prank phone call to a sports bar in Lincoln, Nebraska we all headed to the front yard to tend to the barbecue we had grilling and to throw the football around like we had done many times before. There was a slight breeze but the air was comfortable. Not too hot but not too cold. There were a few clouds in the sky but nothing that hinted at rain. It had been cold the week before and the leaves on the trees had started to turn colors but were not dropping yet. It was a perfect day.

Winston was just like one of the guys. He never needed a leash because he would never even think about running away. He knew what it was like to not have a family. I brought a tennis ball out for Winston to play with and we took turns throwing it for him to fetch. He would sit on full alert, ears up, feet planted, eyes locked on the tennis ball in my hand.  As soon as the ball was in flight Winston was also. He could go from zero to full stride in half a second. Fetch was by far his favorite game. No matter what you threw he would run it down and bring it right back so you could throw it again. A tennis ball, sticks, water bottles, whatever. He would run himself till he was exhausted and once he caught his breath he would bring whatever you were throwing right back so you could throw it again. The person throwing would usually tire much before Winston.

The smell of barbecue chicken, burgers and sausage filled the neighborhood and one of my friends snuck Winston a piece of ground beef even though he knew I would usually get mad when people fed him human food. I pretended not to notice as I picked up a football and threw a pass to one of my other friends who was running routs in the street.

We were all having a great time. A Tech win, barbecue, Frisbees and football. It was a typical all-American Saturday. Not a care in the world.

It all happened so fast. I remember seeing a squirrel across the street eating the pecans that had dropped from the neighbor’s tree. Winston was begging for more food from the grill when he spotted the squirrel. I screamed “WINSTON NO!” It was too late. He was already at full stride. I heard the screech of the tires on the concrete and there was a sickening thud. When the driver of the explorer saw what had happened she sped off. Time stopped. Winston was lying on his side. I was the first person there. Blood had trickled out of his nose and mouth and ran onto the concrete. He was still breathing. His left front leg was badly broken but that was the least of my worries. I gently touched his side and he flinched in pain. I knew it was bad. The blood from his mouth and nose turned the white fur on his head a dark pink color. My friends had gathered around behind me but I didn’t even notice. Bubbles of blood formed on his nose as he gasped. One of my friends pulled his car up and shouted for me to get in so we could go to the emergence animal hospital. I slowly picked him up, and the blood ran onto my shirt and hands. He had many broken bones. I put my head down and touched my nose to his as we got into the car. I could see the fear and pain in his eyes. I wished that somehow I could take his suffering and put it on myself. His breathing was shallow. I told him how sorry I was that I was such a bad father. I left him unattended in the front yard with no leash. “I’m sorry Winston. Hold on, just hold on. I’m sorry Winston.” That’s all I could say. As we sped down the street Winston took one last breath and let out a sigh. His eyes closed for the last time. He never yelped. He never whimpered. He never made a sound. I petted his blood soaked head and held his limp body. I cried.

Winston was more than just a dog. He was like my son. He was also my best friend. I felt like I had killed him myself. I might as well have.

I buried Winston in my back yard the next morning. Before I put him in the hole, I sat there with him one last time and remembered all the good times we had together. Just me and him. When he used to sit on my lap while I watched TV. When he used to stick his head out the car window and his ears would flop around in the wind. Then I gently placed his body in the hole I had dug. Beside him I put his favorite chew toy, a stuffed dog that he slept with every night. I also gave him a brand new tennis ball. Then I covered him up with dirt.