wilburcollage

Wilbur Beauregard Rutter
May 6, 1985 - November 27, 1999

I know we all say it about our pets when they pass; but really, Wilbur was the best. I had had him since he was a puppy, and was with him for 14 years until he died in my arms. His ashes were taken back South and spread in a creek on a golf course next to where my brother Pitt is buried. Wilbur lived with me–as I toiled as an undergrad at the University of South Carolina– among fraternity brothers in a rented house in fashionable five points. He was offered tequila and beer untold times by fraternity brothers but never, never, never did he take even a sip. (He did a very cool dance as he backed away though). His lifelong temperament came from spending his puppyhood outside in a huge fenced backyard while I was studying or working and couldn't bring him along with me. (which wasn't often-he was a babe magnet and pretty cool company).

Wilbur would run with me through the streets of Columbia and Aiken, SC. In fact, Wilbur's running ability helped me when wooing his mom Anne and her dog Abby. Wilbur would go trout fishing near Mom's mountain cabin, he would hike on many of the Blue Ridge Trail mountains and paths and the mountains of Michigan, northern Ontario, and Pennsylvania too.

Wilbur was great company. He was fun. He was a determined little guy. When we lived in Michigan he was always eager to go out-even if there was several inches of snow making him an abominable snow-dog.He would just plow ahead with great determination. He helped nurse Anne to good health after she broke her back. He would swim in the lake at Anne's cottage. He made all of us feel good. He was a real favorite of his maternal grandfather Chuck and although she doesn't admit it, Wilbur was a favorite of his grandmother in Cashiers too. He was a real cute looker too! Girls loved him.

He received his name courtesy of my brother Harrison and sister-in-law Shannon. They told me my late brother Pitt always thought Willlburrr would be a great dog name. It was truly pronounced the way Mr. Ed would call his owner Wilbur Post. So if you say it like a horse would, you've said Willlbbuurrr's name right and the stars in heaven will twinkle down on you. I added Beauregard when Anne and I moved to Michigan so that Wilbur, no matter where he was, would know that he had a Southern Heritage.

In later life WIlbur grew blind, deaf (obstinate like in life) and arthritic. He had a great little sister named Ginger that would help him around. Ginger survives him at home, along with Anne and me.

Baxter Black, the cowboy poet and former large animal veterinarian from NPR fame said about his dog, “there are some that claim dogs can't go to heaven but for him his old dog would be waiting in his heaven.”

I too believe that Wilbur waits for me in my heaven. God bless you Wilbur.