The Adventures of Wally — Our Beautiful Boy ❤️🐾

 

September 2013 – 30 October 2026

Some stories are harder to write than others.

This one is going to be the hardest.

On Friday, 30 October 2026, we said goodbye to our beautiful boy, Wally.

Thirteen years of love, loyalty, laughter, adventures and memories came to an end when we had to make the heartbreaking decision to let him go.

Our gorgeous Wal was in kidney failure, and there was nothing more we could do to give him the life he deserved.

Our hearts are absolutely shattered.

But this isn’t going to be just a sad story. Because Wally’s life was anything but sad.

He was a character. A protector. A professional food opportunist. A possum enthusiast. A champion snuggler. And quite possibly the sneakiest dog ever to walk across a timber floor.

Most importantly, he was family.

And he deserves to have his story told.

It All Started with the Fattest Puppy

Thirteen years ago, we went to pick a puppy from a litter of gorgeous little Beagliers.

There were all these beautiful puppies running around, playing and doing what puppies do.

And then there was Wally.

The fattest and laziest of the lot.

Naturally, we fell in love with him.

Looking back, that should probably have been our first clue about the personality we were bringing home.

Eight weeks old, round as a little pudding, and already perfectly happy to let the world come to him.

Little did we know just how much that fat little puppy would become part of our lives.

Growing Up with the Girls

Wally grew up with our girls, Faith and Paige, and our ginger cat, Acey.

He was there through their childhoods, their teenage years and all the changes that come with growing up.

Both girls absolutely adored him, and he loved them right back.

Faith and Wally had a particularly close bond. He was her boy, and she spoiled him absolutely rotten.

And Wally, being no fool, was perfectly happy with that arrangement.

He particularly loved sneaking into Faith’s bedroom and making himself comfortable on her bed, usually with his head resting on her pillow.

Just like a person.

Even after Faith moved away from home, Wally never forgot her.

She could speak to him over the phone, and he’d recognise her voice.

It was such a beautiful little reminder of how much they meant to each other.

And Paige, too, had grown up with this gorgeous, mischievous boy who was such a huge part of our family.

Wally wasn’t just a dog the girls had known growing up. He was part of their childhood memories, their home and their family.

He also had a wonderful relationship with Acey, although Acey’s hunting habits occasionally provided Wally with some rather questionable dietary choices.

Acey had a habit of bringing baby rabbits home.

Wally had a habit of eating them.

Not exactly the sort of teamwork we encouraged, but apparently they had their own arrangement.

Wally absolutely adored having people around, particularly when the girls had friends over.

He would be right in amongst the kids, making sure he was included in whatever was happening.

And he had a particular soft spot for the young lads who came to visit.

If you’d ever given Wally a cuddle, shown him some affection or made a fuss of him, you were officially on his list of favourite humans.

And he never forgot you.

You could turn up months later and he’d be beside himself with excitement, insisting on saying hello, having a smooch and reminding you that you were, in fact, one of his people.

He had an incredible memory for kindness.

Enter Louie — The Tiny Boss

When Wally was about a year old, we brought home Louie, our tiny little Pomeranian.

And when I say tiny, I mean tiny.

Louie could literally sit in the palm of my hand.

Wally, who was considerably bigger, immediately seemed to understand that this tiny ball of fluff needed looking after.

He was incredibly gentle with Louie and fiercely protective of him.

The two became inseparable.

For years, wherever one was, the other wasn’t far away.

They were the most unlikely little pair, but their friendship was something special.

The Great Possum Hunter

Now, Wally might have started life as the laziest puppy in the litter, but he certainly developed a few interests.

Possums, for one.

On one camping trip, Wally discovered a possum up a tree.

And that was that.

He sat at the bottom of that tree ALL NIGHT.

Waiting.

Watching.

Hoping.

Presumably convinced that at some point the possum would get bored, come down and surrender itself.

It didn’t.

But you had to admire his dedication.

Then there was the time we were living in Melbourne in a house with a small yard full of foliage.

One night, we heard a bit of commotion outside.

The following morning, I got up to discover a dead possum at the back door.

And sitting beside it, looking as proud as punch, was Wally.

Apparently, he’d decided to leave us a little present.

Thanks, Wal.

Really didn’t need that with my morning cuppa.

The Great Escape

Wally was generally a good boy, but he did have the occasional moment of independence.

One day in Melbourne, someone left a gate open.

Wally saw an opportunity.

And off he went.

When we realised he was missing, we were frantic.

Those few hours were absolutely horrible.

We searched, worried and put out a call on Facebook, hoping someone might have seen him.

Thankfully, someone recognised him.

Our adventurous little escape artist had managed to get himself locked up in the pound.

I don’t know who was more relieved when we were reunited.

Actually, I suspect it was us.

Wally probably thought he’d just had an interesting little outing.

The World’s Sneakiest Dog

For a dog with a decent set of toenails, Wally possessed a remarkable talent.

He could walk across timber floorboards without making a sound.

Now, anyone who has had a dog in a house with timber floors knows that distinctive click, click, click of toenails.

Not Wally.

Not when he was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be.

Somehow, that dog could seemingly turn his toes up and glide silently across the floor.

He particularly loved sneaking inside and lying on the lounge room floor.

And, of course, there was Faith’s bed.

Head on the pillow.

Completely comfortable.

Looking for all the world as though he owned the place.

And considering how much Faith spoiled him, perhaps he did.

The Crooked Nose Trick

Of course, when sneaking inside wasn’t an option, Wally had another trick up his sleeve.

Or rather, up his nose.

If he was sitting outside and decided it was time to come in, he’d wander over to the window or screen door and press his nose firmly against the glass or gauze.

Then he’d move sideways just a little.

Just enough to squash his nose into a ridiculous crooked shape.

And there he’d sit.

Nose squashed.

Face distorted.

Eyes fixed firmly on whoever was inside.

Not barking.

Not scratching.

Just staring.

With that ridiculous crooked nose pressed against the window.

It was impossible to ignore.

We’d try to pretend we couldn’t see him, but he’d just sit there, patiently applying psychological pressure until one of us finally relented and let him in.

And of course, it worked.

Every bloody time.

He had us very well trained.

Rachel’s Special Boy

Of all the people Wally loved, my sister Rachel held a particularly special place in his heart.

Those two had the most beautiful connection.

Whenever Rachel came to visit, Wally would get so excited that he’d actually sing for her.

Not bark.

Sing.

He’d carry on with these wonderful noises, absolutely beside himself with happiness because one of his favourite humans had arrived.

It was such a special little thing between them.

And something I know Rachel will miss terribly.

Where Is It, Wal?

Another of Wally’s great loves was playing tug-of-war with Col.

All Col had to say was:

“Where is it?”

And Wally was off.

Ears flopping, racing around looking for his rope.

Once he’d found it, he’d proudly bring it back, ready for the game to begin.

It was one of those simple little routines that became such a big part of our lives.

Two best mates, a bit of rope and a game that never got old.

I think Col is going to miss those moments more than words can say.

Our Camping Companion

Wally came camping everywhere with us.

And he absolutely loved it.

He was never particularly interested in being tucked away inside the caravan.

No, thank you.

Wally had a job to do.

He was security.

He needed to be outside, keeping an eye on things, making sure everyone was where they should be and that nothing suspicious was happening around camp.

He took his responsibilities very seriously.

Of course, this occasionally created a few logistical issues.

Particularly around the campfire.

Wally had an extraordinary ability to position himself in exactly the wrong spot.

Right where someone needed to walk.

Right where someone wanted to put their chair.

Right where someone was trying to do something.

Eventually, the affectionate cry around camp became:

“Fuck off, Wal!”

And off he’d wander.

Not far, mind you.

Just far enough to be out of the way, but still close enough to keep an eye on his people.

Because you never knew when his services might be required.

He was our protector, our constant companion and such a huge part of every camping adventure.

Even if he did spend half his time being told to move.

Saying Goodbye to Louie

Three years ago, our little Louie became terribly ill with a lung infection.

We lost him, and it broke our hearts.

But it also broke Wally’s.

He was lost without his little mate.

They’d spent almost their entire lives together, and suddenly Louie wasn’t there anymore.

Wally seemed to age almost overnight.

He wasn’t quite himself.

That spark we’d always known seemed to fade.

For two years, we watched our beautiful boy grow older, and although he was still our Wal, something was missing.

Then along came Cheech.

Enter Cheech — The Little Pest

When we brought Cheech home, we weren’t entirely sure how Wally would react.

After all, he’d been without his mate for two years and was getting on a bit himself.

But something wonderful happened.

Wally came back to life.

Suddenly, there was another little dog following him around, wanting to play, wanting attention and generally being a complete pest.

And Wally?

Well, he loved him.

Mostly.

There were definitely moments when you could almost hear him thinking, For God’s sake, will someone get this little thing away from me?

But they quickly became friends.

Cheech absolutely adored Wally.

He looked up to him, followed his lead and found himself a big brother who, despite the occasional annoyance, looked after him.

Watching Wally find that companionship again was beautiful.

We’d got our boy back.

When Things Started to Change

The remarkable thing about Wally was that he was never sick.

For almost thirteen years, we never had to take him to the vet because he was unwell.

He was just always there.

Healthy, happy, loyal and dependable.

Maybe that’s why what happened next was so incredibly hard to comprehend.

Because you somehow start believing they’ll always be there.

That there will always be another camping trip.

Another game of tug-of-war.

Another crooked nose pressed against the window.

Another walk.

But sometimes life has other plans.

And this was most definitely not in ours.

When the Light Went Out

Looking back, I think things started to change when we were in Bingara.

Wally had been sick, and although he seemed to recover, he never really came good again.

Something wasn’t right.

Our beautiful boy, who had always been so full of life, started spending more and more time just lying around.

Then his back legs began giving him trouble.

We took him to the vet, who discovered an abscess on the inside of his right back leg. It was drained, he was given medication, and we brought him home, hoping that would be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Over the following week, things continued to deteriorate.

He was vomiting his food, struggling to stay on his feet and losing interest in the things he’d always loved.

And one of the hardest things was watching him lose his love of walking.

Oh, how that boy loved his walks.

All you had to do was say the word walk and those beautiful, soft, floppy ears would suddenly come to attention.

He knew exactly what that word meant.

He’d be ready to go, excited about whatever adventure might be waiting outside.

But now, when we said it, nothing.

He just wasn’t interested anymore.

And that was heartbreaking.

He couldn’t keep his footing on flat or slippery surfaces. His back legs were letting him down, and the beautiful boy who had spent thirteen years following us everywhere was struggling just to get around.

We took him back to the vet for more tests.

And then came the news we were dreading.

His kidneys were shot.

There was no happy ending waiting for us this time.

We looked at our beautiful Wal, and we knew.

The sparkle had gone from his eyes.

Those eyes that had always been so full of love, mischief and life were almost empty.

It was as though the Wally we knew had already started slipping away.

And as much as we desperately wanted to take him home, to have another day, another week, another cuddle, we couldn’t do that to him.

Not when he was suffering.

So, on 30 October 2026, we made the most heartbreaking decision of our lives.

We let our beautiful boy go.

And in those final moments, Wally did something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

He pushed his face into my belly.

And he just lay there.

I don’t know whether he understood what was happening.

But I think he did.

Maybe he was frightened. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he simply wanted to be as close to me as he possibly could.

I like to think he knew we were there, that he was safe, and that he was loved.

Because, oh, how that boy was loved.

I held him close, knowing that in a few moments I would have to say goodbye to a little soul who had been part of my life for thirteen years.

And my heart broke.

There is something terribly cruel about loving an animal so completely, knowing that one day you will probably have to make that decision for them.

But there is also something incredibly special about being trusted with their love for an entire lifetime.

Wally gave us everything he had.

His loyalty, his protection, his companionship, his ridiculous little habits, his excitement, his affection and his unconditional love.

And in the end, the last thing we could give him was peace.

The Hardest Phone Call

As heartbreaking as saying goodbye to Wally was, one of the hardest things I had to do was ring Faith.

She and Wally had grown up together, and the bond they shared was incredibly special.

He was her boy, and she had loved and spoiled him for thirteen years.

Even after she moved away, he still recognised her voice whenever she spoke to him over the phone.

I knew how much losing him would hurt her.

And having to tell her that her beautiful boy was gone broke my heart all over again.

Both Faith and Paige have lost a much-loved part of their childhood and our family.

And I know they’ll carry their memories of Wally with them forever.

Goodbye, Our Beautiful Wal

Our caravan feels emptier now.

There is no Wally keeping watch outside, making sure his family is safe.

No beautiful floppy ears pricking up at the mention of a walk.

No racing off to find his rope when Col asks, “Where is it?”

No sneaking into places he shouldn’t be.

No crooked little nose pressed against the window, silently demanding to be let inside.

No big furry body lying exactly where someone needs to walk.

And no beautiful boy looking at us with those eyes that could say so much without a single word.

Cheech has lost his big brother.

Col has lost his mate.

Faith and Paige have lost the boy who grew up alongside them.

Rachel has lost the beautiful boy who sang just for her.

And I have lost a piece of my heart.

I know that in time we’ll be able to look back at all the wonderful memories and smile more than we cry.

We’ll laugh about the possums, the rabbits, the great escape, the silent sneaking across the floorboards, that ridiculous crooked nose and the countless times we told him to get out of the bloody way.

We’ll remember the fattest, laziest little puppy we picked out of that litter thirteen years ago.

And we’ll be forever grateful that we chose him.

Or perhaps he chose us.

But right now, it hurts.

It hurts more than I can put into words.

I keep thinking about that final moment, his beautiful face pressed against me.

And I hope he knew.

I hope he knew that we would have done anything to make him better.

That we weren’t giving up on him.

That we were letting him go because we loved him too much to let him suffer.

And I hope that somewhere, somehow, he’s found Louie again.

Two little mates, reunited at last.

Perhaps there’s a possum up a tree, a rope waiting to be found and a nice comfortable bed with a pillow just for him.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s a campfire where he can lie wherever he bloody well pleases.

Thank you for thirteen wonderful years, Wal.

Thank you for growing up with our girls.

For being Col’s mate, Rachel’s singing boy, Louie’s protector and Cheech’s big brother.

For every adventure, every laugh, every cuddle and every wonderful memory.

You were our protector, our travelling companion, our best mate and our family.

And you were loved beyond words.

Sleep peacefully, our beautiful boy.

We will miss you for the rest of our lives. ❤️🐾

Wally — 2013 to 30 October 2026

Forever our beautiful Wal.