Duncan was a fine, handsome West Highland Terrier. I always tell people that I got him at a five and dime store, because the pet shop (Kreider's Kritters) was located in the old McCrorys Store in Middletown, PA (now vanished). I bought him when he was about 14 weeks old which was a little old for a store bought puppy. No one wanted him because he had a floppy ear. I thought his ear was endearing and anyhow it soon grew straight. He was my blue light special sale puppy.
One day, soon after I brought him home, I was out weeding my garden. Duncan was sitting on the ground besides me. After a few minutes, I looked up from my work and to my horror I noticed that he vanished. Frantically, I searched for him, but couldn't find him. Then the telephone rang. A woman's voice said, "Did you loose a small white dog?" "Yes, where is he? I have been looking for him," I cried. "He is here," she replied and gave me an address a few blocks away. When I got there I found to my horror that the poor little guy had been badly mauled by a large dog. Duncan had walked into the dog's yard and began to eat from the dog's bowl, totally unaware of the danger. This monstrous mongrel attacked Duncan. He had Duncan in his mouth and was about the shake him to break his back before his owner stopped him. His thigh was ripped open and his stomach area had been punctured. I rushed him to the Veterinarian and fortunately after a few stitches Duncan made full recovery. It was a close call for which I blamed myself for not keeping a more watchful eye on him. I was delighted when I heard that Duncan's attacker had died a few weeks later.
Duncan loved to chase squirrels and chippers and to tree raccoons. He adored long walks, our cottage in Ontario Canada, and all the kids in the neighborhood. He was the mascot of the Political Science Department until the all-college pet ban went into effect.
He was good-natured, loving, and admired by all as the most handsome Westie that they had ever seen. An Alpha dog, he usually got his way with much larger breeds. He was as sharp as a tack and knew how to manipulate his master.
He never had a sick day in his life until this past summer when I noted he was slowing down. Just before Thanksgiving his Vet discovered prostate cancer. I prayed that he would live through the holidays and God granted my wish. So, I am thankful. On Jan. 8th, we took him to the Vet's one last time. Just before the needle was administered, I looked into his eyes and said, "You are best puppy in the world," and then he slowly slipped into eternity. Then I cried for the first time in nearly 50 years. He will live in my heart always.
