He was a good boy

 

Before we could recover from the loss of Twinkle, Albie had a sudden illness and died also.

He was Twinkle’s son from her large litter of nine.  Dorothy was from that same batch of puppies, as well as my sister’s Frodo, my pal Shan’s Oscar, and our neighbor’s Scruffy.   
So many good babies!

Albie and Dorothy were lifelong besties.

Albie was an odd little guy, a mix of worry and adventure but full of devotion.

He was at the same time, hanging in the background and being first to join in on any activity.

He never wanted to be left out of anything, and was worried that he might be.  We went out of our way to reassure him and in the last few years, his confidence grew to the point where he thought he was one of the big dogs, not part of the group of Yorkies.

His nickname was “The River Dog” because he loved kayak trips.  We feel that separating him for things like this, and giving him alone time away from the five other dogs was part of helping him find his inner big dog and making his personality bloom.

He spent most of his free time perched on the back of a chair, where he had a good view of what was going on in the house.  He liked to be on a chair with us, so he could be nearby, but he wasn’t a cuddler.  He watched every move we made, always on alert for what he could do to join in and stay close, but didn’t want to be held.  

I think he thought he was our protector and always had to be on guard to keep us safe.

Albie watched over us all, including the puppies.

 He was vigilant when there was a new litter, keeping an eye on them, but never venturing too near.

From the very beginning, he was closest to Dewdrop.  I think he might have thought he needed to watch over her like he did the puppies.

He might have a worried look on his face in this photo, but he was pretty dang happy.  She was one person who he liked being held by.  He followed her everywhere when she was at the cottage.

That boy loved coming to work with me in the studio, too.  He had a habit of jumping up into whatever chair I just got out of.  If I was at the computer, he was on my chair in my work station.  When I came back to the table, he’d hop in my desk chair.  

When we got Honey, he wasn’t too happy with us and there was a long adjustment period, with the Littles against the Bigs.  Eventually, they all became one pack and Albert was right out front when running with the big dogs in the woods.  He thought of himself as a leader, although I don’t know if any of the large dogs acknowledged his role as boss.  They indulged him, and let him think what he wanted.

But no matter how important his role was in guarding the family and telling the other dogs what to do, he always had time for the girls, and enjoyed the special attention they gave him.  

I will miss his subdued enthusiasm in joining everything anyone was doing.  His quiet joy in being a family leader.  The unending love he had for us all.

When I buried his mommy, Twinkle just a few days ago, he sat by my side the entire time, and watched me put her in the ground. Afterwards he sat there a while, like he was taking care of her, watching over her body like he watched over us.

He never complained, he never demanded.  He was 9 lbs of bravery and sweetness, with a little bit of worry and a lot of caring thrown in the mix.

He died very bravely too. Rich had been out of town ten days, and Albert stayed strong until his return.  I think he was hanging on to see him.

We held Albie and his sister in our arms together as he slowly faded away, whispering his favorite words to him, telling him how much we loved our River Dog.  

I will miss my funny, weird little guy.  He was a good boy.