Willie Nelson and the Open Tread Stairs
Our daughter, Shelley, laughs when she recalls seeing her golden retriever, Willie, for the first time. She and her husband, Erik Nelson, made choosing the family pet one of the first major decisions as newlyweds. They researched breeds. Shelley favored a lapdog. Erik wanted a man’s dog. Erik won. They decided on a golden retriever and selected a reputable breeder nearby. They had the pick of the litter. Since Erik picked the breed, he wanted Shelley to make the final choice.
She didn’t hesitate. The affable puppy that plopped in the middle of the feeding bowl captured her heart. It was a definite indication of Willie’s love of food—a trait that became the reason for our constant vigilance when he grew to a larger-than-average golden height and filled out a ninety-pound frame. His nose stood at kitchen counter level and food left unattended was fair game. He once devoured the corner of a shower cake. Quick thinking and a bouquet of fresh flowers concealed the missing piece before guests arrived.
Shelley and Erik bestowed the Nelson family name on Willie and showered him with attention. He wore a bandana around his neck, mimicking the ever-present headband of his namesake, and howled to “Whiskey River” and other Willie Nelson hits. Their Willie adorned their Christmas cards. They planned doggie playdates for him. He accompanied Erik on morning runs. When Erik traveled, as he frequently did, Willie was a companion and source of comfort for Shelley. He made her feel more secure. While his size made him appear formidable, we knew that inside he was a cream puff—information we hoped an intruder wouldn’t guess.
We often kept our grand-doggie, especially after he pined away during one brief boarding experience. At his doggie grandparents’ house, the gentle giant cowered at his reflection in the glass door. He barked, then ran at seeing his own image in the swimming pool. However, it was the open tread stairs at our home that sparked Willie’s greatest fear.
Though always at Shelley’s heels, when the Nelsons visited our house, Willie wouldn’t follow Shelley to the upstairs bedroom. He balked at the sight of the open tread stairs, refusing to go up. On the Nelson visits, my husband and I knew Willie would sleep downstairs in our bedroom.
Shelley and Erik celebrated their first anniversary and then a second. We tried not to ask when we would have a grandbaby with fingers and toes rather than paws. We hoped that would come in time. In secret, we speculated about Willie’s reaction at an addition to the Nelson family—a baby who cried and demanded attention.
Shortly after their second wedding anniversary, Shelley and Erik came for a visit and shared the joyful news of their first pregnancy. We were elated but eager for an outward change in Shelley’s appearance, a little baby bump, to make the event seem real.
On the evening of this visit and just after the blissful announcement, we placed Willie’s bed downstairs in our room as usual. To our surprise, without hesitation, Willie followed Shelley up the dreaded steps. He needed no visible evidence of her condition. He had an uncanny sense of her pregnancy and his protectiveness overcame his fear. He traipsed up the open tread stairs and took up his vigil beside her bed, a practice he continued until our initial joy turned to sorrow with the loss of the tiny life that had just begun.
Willie sensed the loss and clung even closer to Shelley. When her second pregnancy also ended in a miscarriage, Willie comforted her in the despondency she hid from even those closest to her. The only time he was far from her side was during her visits to our home, where his original fear of the open treads once again kept him from following her upstairs. He would settle instead in his bed in our room downstairs.
When Shelley shared the news of her third pregnancy, we all held the information close and decided to tell no one until Shelley was safely into her third month and would no longer be able to conceal the news. While we decided not to breathe a word, not even to close friends and family, Willie knew. On their visit to our home, he ignored his usual spot in our bedroom and followed Shelley up the horrid stairs. Then our granddaughter arrived, followed in two years by her brother, and Willie continued his pattern. During Shelley’s pregnancies, he followed her upstairs and slept by her bed. After the safe arrival of each child, he resumed sleeping downstairs in our bedroom during their visits and warily stayed clear of the stairs.
Two small preschoolers kept the Nelson household busy. Willie may have puzzled about the change in his position, from being on the front of Christmas cards to now hoping he was fed, but he remained gentle and patient. The morning runs with Erik became less frequent, and trips to the groomer were traded for a bath and a quick brushing, but Willie didn’t seem to mind. He welcomed the additional love and most likely never missed the doggie playdates. He became the preschoolers’ playmate, their pillow, and their friend.
With a four-year-old and two-year-old, most assumed the Nelson family had a “quiver full.” Certainly when they arrived at our house, their SUV was overflowing with Willie, two children, and all the accompanying paraphernalia.
One particular visit caught us by surprise. While always excited to see each of the Nelsons, it seemed odd to have a return visit so soon. We didn’t question the reason.
Just before bedtime, they told us their joyful news, the real purpose of the visit. Again, we agreed to keep the announcement secret for just a bit longer, but to a watchful eye there was one visible sign, one outward indication that a third grandchild was on the way. It was Willie—Willie at Shelley’s heels when she went upstairs for bed, Willie making his brave ascent up the open tread stairs, ready to stand guard at her bedside.