It’s been eight weeks now.
Following a stroke that left his rear legs paralyzed, my beloved Junior, Golden Retriever, my writing partner, muse, and inspiration, passed away in November. His spirit is embedded in every word of every word I have written here and in my heart forever. The strength of our bond proves to me that our connection endures today and forever.
Death doesn’t end a relationship.
There’s always that one special dog. The one whose connection with you is spiritual, transcending the here and now. Junior was that dog. He still is
He was my hero.
At 11 months old, Junior was in a shelter. DFWMetro Golden Retriever Rescue rescued him, and his given rescue name was George. I jokingly called him George Jr when we adopted him, and it stuck. He gave us fifteen years of love and service. He worked hard and became a registered therapy and reading education assistance dog. Junior’s therapy niche was reading with kids in libraries, healthcare settings, and domestic violence shelters. He started a reading program for kids at a literacy center. When he retired from therapy work, he became my writing muse and inspiration for our blog, The Daily Junior, which won a Dog Writers Association Maxwells award for best blog.
Junior was also an avid sportsman. His captures (mostly close pursuits ) included one armadillo, countless squirrels, seagulls, multiple possum standoffs, cat chases too numerous to count, and hundreds of bunny hunts.( no bunnies were hurt)
His most important and enduring role was the dog of our heart to George, me, and our neighborhood ambassadog. He and George walked the neighborhood every night, and Junior applied his therapy dog social skills to neighbors of all ages.
He negotiated numerous cease fires with a certain Pomeranian. He was an avid Cubs fan and recently cheered the Rangers to a national championship.
He was my huckleberry.
He was there for me and with me through it all, my man for the job, someone I counted on.
My heart is broken, and I miss this dear and treasured friend. He is buried in my heart forever.
The writing will always have his touch, and as I look to my left, there on the carpet below my desk, looking up at me, there he will be.
Good boy, Junior. Travel well, sweet boy. See you down the road.
Jill Schilp Writes 