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Angus was the last Westie that we had to let go. Of the four that are now departed, he was by far the happiest and most affectionate. If you scratched his belly he would actually smile and laugh! Angus was our only true rescue dog. I remember when my wife received a call from a lady at the animal emergency clinic, asking if she would be interested in another Westie. It seems that she opened her door one day and there stood Angus, broken leash and a sickly yellow color. The condition was that he had to get along with Molly, the only surviving dog at the time. When they brought him to our home it almost made you sick to look at him. We have red clay soil here and it looked as though Angus had been rolling in it. But it wasn’t dirt; he had a severe yeast infection. Well, he hit it off with Molly so we took him in. It took lots of medical attention to get the infection under control but he finally recovered completely. From that time on he and Molly were best of friends. I would like to say that Angus was “my dog” but the truth is he was everyone’s dog. He never met anyone he wasn’t friendly with. I can’t imagine what poor Angus endured after escaping his captivity. Teeth were missing from having chewed through the rope he was tied up with, and who knows how he survived until meeting the lady who gave him to us. One thing I do know; he was loved by us and well taken care of until he developed lung cancer and we, once again, had that hard decision to make. He was truly a lover and we miss him dearly.

Molly and Bruce were brother and sister. After Scottie, we felt an emptiness and decided to get another Westie. We didn’t plan to get more than one but the breeder showed us a litter that still had three puppies remaining; one female and two males. If money had been no object, we would have taken all three, but it was so we settled on Molly and Bruce. I’ve often hoped the remaining pup found a nice home. Of all the Westies we have owned, Molly was the calmest. She was absolutely the perfect lap dog and was content just to sit next to my wife. The only thing she got excited about was if Bruce tried to play with her favorite toy, a squeaky Tasmanian Devil. She guarded that toy religiously. When it finally tore up, I hunted all over the Internet until I found another one. I’m convinced the one I found was the last in existence but it gave Molly such pleasure I didn’t regret what it cost. It managed to last until her death and is now on display next to her cremation urn. By the time we had to make the decision to let Molly go, her brother Bruce had already passed on. The loss of each of our Westies was hard but the loss of Molly was especially difficult for my wife. She also had diabetes and we had set a timer in her glucose meter that still goes off every night. When it does, we both say “Molly is calling”. She was our “Sweetheart” and will always be missed.