In November 2004 we welcomed 12-week-old Winnie into our home, named after Winnie the Pooh because she was the colour of honey. Throughout the years she proved to be sweeter than honey, with a beautiful, loving, brave and delightful personality.
Winnie had multiple names (all bestowed by me – and don’t ask how I came up with them because I have no idea): Hatsy-little-patsy-pom-pom-pom, Winnie-Chon, Chon, Little Baby, Winnie-boots … the list goes on. My husband used to tease me that Winnie would be confused about her name. I knew that Winnie knew when I was talking to her – regardless of what name I used.
And I would make up songs just for Winnie and sing them to her. And I would dance. Whenever I danced, Winnie would dance around with me. Those were a few of the countless joyful times I had with her.
Winnie was my dearest companion. One time she accompanied me on a quick five-minute errand. I parked the car, dropped off a document and went back to the car. It was gone. I was hyperventilating at the thought of someone having taken her – I didn’t care about the car. I almost passed out. I then realized that I was on the wrong floor! I went and found her. You can imagine the extraordinary relief and joy I felt. After that, I rarely took Winnie out in the car. I was terrified of losing her.
Winnie passed away in my arms at almost 17 years of age. I can only hope that she went with a heart and soul full of the love I felt for her, for her entire life. I will love our dearest Winnie forever. Her life was a precious gift.
