eat & run

Last entry, I wrote about Grandma. I was thinking about her, with her mostly black hair, some grey, getting on in years, difficulty walking . . . and then (no offense, Gram) I thought of my brother's dog, Winfield! This picture was taken at my parents' house circa 1993. As you can see, Winfield ("Winnie") was just an adorable puppy then. And I was younger with more hair and bigger eyebrows.

Now Winnie is almost 14, or about 88 in dog years. Like Grandma, he has a lot of life in him despite his physical limitations. My brother was only 21 when he got Winnie. Winnie has lived more places than most people, including Brad's fraternity house. My mom liked having Winnie around, which was good because Brad often left him at mom & dad's house.

My family has derived much entertainment from telling Winfield stories. He's best known for two things: eating and running away. Winnie lives to eat, like most of my family. During a Super Bowl party, Winnie ate an entire sheet cake when no one was looking. When Brad lived in a 3rd floor apartment, he could lure Winnie back from a vacant lot across the street by standing near the window and dropping a few pieces of dog food into a bowl.

As for the running away, my parents got calls on multiple occasions from animal control that they had Winnie in custody. The cost to bail him out went up the more times he was captured. My dad referred to him as a “habitual offender.”

Some stories about Winnie involve both eating and roaming. When Brad was in college, Winnie wandered off and Brad didn’t see him for a few days. When Winnie finally returned, Brad wasn't even sure if it was his dog—Winnie was so bloated that he looked different. Apparently, Winnie had spent days dining on neighborhood garbage and whatever else he could find. He was sick for days. But given the chance Winnie would do it all over again. And he has.