Wiley

Less than an hour ago my pretty girl died. Her name was Wiley and she was 12 years old. This is how I want to remember her.









I got Wiley from a shelter after she had been abused and dumped on the street. I think she may have picked me rather than me picking her as she was afraid of everyone except me. Who picked who doesn't really matter as I really enjoyed her personality. Wiley and my other German Shepherd at the time, Sandy, bonded and interacted extremely well. I loved to watch them tear around the backyard. For the last couple of years, Wiley's mobility decreased as her arthritis got worse. She also became weaker and even doing a minimal amount of walking at the property took a couple of days to recover. Then nearly two months ago she developed pneumonia and never fully recovered. Several times I expected to wake or come home and find her dead, but she kept pulling through and even a week ago she demonstrated her playful personality. I was with her when she died. I will bury her on my property with some of Sandy's remaining ashes. Needless to say, I am very happy to have shared time together and I will greatly miss her.