Our Dear Wilbur

In the months after my mother-in-law passed away in 2015, my wife developed a strong desire to adopt a dog. Her search led to Wilbur, a 1-year old French Bulldog whose owner was preparing to move to the States and couldn't take Wilbur along.

Having grown up afraid of dogs because of some menacing strays that roamed the neighbourhood I lived in before attending kindergarten, I was unsure of how things would go with Wilbur. But before long, we discovered that he was the most gentle little fellow who only wanted to be near his people 24/7.

We grew to deeply love our sweet Wilbur. Not only was he our baby son, he was also a great teacher to me. Among many things, he taught me that real love is free of aesthetics, accomplishments, and other external markers that humans tend to assign importance to. All Wilbur cared about was that we were his people, the ones who wanted to share delicious food with him, to play with him, to rest with him.

On Friday, May 16th, following Wilbur's morning walk, he couldn't recover from rapid shallow breathing. In seeing that things weren't improving with rest, water intake, and a cool environment, we were greatly fortunate to have our vet see him on an emergency basis. An x-ray revealed a large mass that was causing significant deviation of his trachea and was overshadowing his heart and a good part of his lungs. By that point, Wilbur had been struggling to breathe for close to 4 hours.

We quickly understood that the best thing for Wilbur was to relieve him of his suffering as soon as possible, as the prognosis for anything we could have tried was poor and involved prolonged suffering. In expressing our wish for Wilbur, our vet immediately indicated that it was the right thing to do - in thinking back at this moment, we deeply appreciate that she had the grace and wisdom to allow for us to come to this realization.

I can still barely speak to people in real life, such is the blend of devastation and grief that courses through my body. I cannot believe that he left so suddenly. I wrongly assumed that we had at least another handful of years to continue to give him the best life we could and enjoy his geriatric years. Intellectually, I know that we loved and cared for him as much as we could, but I am filled with regret that I didn't do more.

Wilbur's departure is a profound reminder that we never know when our last moment with another loved one will be. Every time we interact with someone could be the last time - this is our unavoidable reality. With Wilbur's spirit of goodness embedded in my heart, I hope that as I live out the moments before me, I can be more mindful of this truth.

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Dear Wilbur,

P.S. This morning as Mama and I remembered you, I told her that I snuck you lots of pistachios and other delicious treats over the years, and I don’t regret doing so. She was happy to know this.