R.I.P. Whistler

Whistler

I met Whistler, some sort of wire-haired adorableness, last summer on the Springfield Greenway. Whistler was less than two-years old, weighed about 15 pounds, and walked with a frisky prance.

Farnival contributor and my walking sidekick Nancy Padfield introduced me to Whistler. She knew Whistler’s family and had offered to take the perky little canine on our four-mile morning hikes, which include anywhere from four to seven dogs.

At first, our girl Meadow and Whistler didn’t hit it off. They would yap at each other, sometimes growl, until we got tired of it and walked them side-by-side, forcing them to deal with their issues because we thought they’d be friends for a long time.

They became friends, but it didn’t last for nearly long enough. We found out this morning that a car killed our walking buddy Whistler. Our heart goes out to her family, Wanda and Billy.