Sir Trevor Scot Villers - aka Scottie - passed away yesterday morning.
At 14 years old, I met my little puppy ruv when my parents escorted me into the living room to see a tiny bouncing white puffball. He immediately jumped up and nipped a hole in my favorite t-shirt, yet won my heart entirely.
I took him to many an obedience class, which worked quite well until his three-week vacation with Grandma Betty. He had been trained to sit when we stopped walking and one day we were walking through a muddy area of the Strawberry Festival and, needless to say, I had a brown dog instead of white by the time we left.
His favorite activity may very well have been escaping from his fenced-in area and running to the neighbor's horse barn to roll in the manure. Our least favorite was bathing him after. The neighbor's goat, Timmy, would often times wander over and stare in our door, sometimes knocking with his horns, until we let Scottie out to play.
The past few years I've only had Scottie time once or twice per year, but he never cared - he always greeted me with more excitement than I thought any creature could muster.
I think my favorite activity with him was "run Scottie run." We'd get him all worked up and then he'd run so fast around our L-shaped couch that he was literally running sideways. He'd bounce from object to object, defying all rules of gravity.
I could always count on my Scottie to come snuggle up by my side during a rough time or just for a nice nap.
I love you, Scottie, my ruv pup!
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