To the Editor:

I just lost my faithful friend of 11-plus years on April 9. So many times people say, “He or she was just a dog.” I hope to change that antiquated and so very wrong adage.

Many neighbors and friends knew my boy Dooley but I wanted to share through my tears some things many don’t know.

At 5 years old, Dooley came into my deceased wife, Chris Marshall, and my life as a “rescue.” He was not your typical rescue. He was not abused, etc. He came from a loving family who lost their jobs, were losing their home and had no other choice but to surrender him to a Westie Rescue Organization.

His former mom sent with him a three-page narrative about him. His likes, favorite treats, toys, who he has been around, etc. Thankfully it was perfect timing for us to welcome another Westie to our home. This is the story of not “just a dog.”

Dooley was unlike any other dog. What I can tell you is that he was a very special dog. To the delight of our actual mayor, he was fondly known as the “Mayor of Whipple Way,” my street, for his friendly vocal greeting, and his easy outgoing and caring way.

He would strut into my vet’s office, walk up on the scale (to the chagrin and embarrassment of other patients who were trying to do the same and whose pets would not cooperate), get off the scale, walk up to the desk and everyone would yell — DOOLEY!!! — to which he would give his infamous “Aaroooo.” That’s “hello” in Dooley speak.

Yes, so much more than “just a dog.” He calmed distressed and crying children who just witnessed the death of their grandparent in Hospice; he gave the courage to trust other dogs again when a neighborhood dog was attacked by another dog.

He ran and splashed with the big dogs every year on Cape Cod Bay, and never missed a beat. He was famous with the neighborhood kids for the “Where’s Dooley” antics on Facebook. He was host to many other dogs who would come in and play with his plethora of toys and never raise one woof of annoyance.

I could go on and on but, if you knew Dooley, you knew he was special. He gave so much and asked for so little.

He was not “just a dog” — none of them are. They are family, our fur babies, and he was my reason to get up every day.

I want to thank the organization called “In the Comfort of Home” and Dr Carlin, who even on Easter Sunday, came to my house and guided Dooley sadly, safely, and quietly and without pain.

I take solace in knowing Dooley has passed through the doggie door in heaven and into the waiting arms of his favorite mom, my wife, Chris.

Deb Hext

Altamont