Wednesday, February 16, 2011


On Sunday we had to put our sweet dog, Rosco.

Poor guy had been fighting various health issues since he was born. He had to have surgery on both of his knees before his first birthday to fix a defect in each one. He's had ear problems, eye problems, skin problems, and most recently, kidney problems. In fact, when we took him to the vet in December, we found out his kidney's were failing. Keith and I were just trying to get poor Rosco to last through Christmas. We consider it something near a miracle that he was able to last this long.

Over the weekend, his health took a sharp turn for the worse. He stopped eating all together and couldn't even keep any liquids down. He'd dropped nearly half of his body weight and just looked plain miserable. In my heart, I think it wasn't fair for us to make him hold on any longer when he obviously was in pain and suffering.

I'd like this opportunity to make the rest of this post a celebration of Rosco's life; a way to catalog and keep all of those great, treasured memories here and present for us. Thanks for listening (or reading) as I might ramble along.

In his younger days, Rosco was obsessed with his pig. That pig was his pride and joy. He'd carry it around and make it oink at all hours of the day. He'd snuggle with it and sleep right next to it. He also liked to nibble on it too which created an issue as the pig would not stay together too long with all of his nibbling. Rosco went through a great many pigs in his day, but he loved each and every one of them.

Rosco was our first baby. He was with us before Luke or Reagan came along. When I was pregnant with Luke, Keith even made the attempt at practicing how to hold a baby with Rosco. And Rosco didn't mind a bit. He ate up all the extra attention and love time.

Once the kids did get here, they loved Rosco just as much as we did. Granted, Luke was quite a bit more rough with him than Reagan was, but both of them loved him. A lot. They each liked to pet him and give him hugs and he was so great just to lay there and take it. He never growled, snapped at, or bit either of them. If he got tired of being smothered, he'd get up, walk away, and find a good hiding spot.

When I was teaching, I would tell my students stories about Rosco. One of their favorites was the stories about how many tennis balls Rosco could fit in his mouth at one time. His standing record was four at one time and he could get them all in independently without our help. Pretty tricky dog. The kids also loved to hear about his crazy run. Rosco would bolt through his dog door from outside and tear around the house like his rear was on fire. It was seriously one of the funniest things I think I've ever seen.

Rosco was an absolute joy to have around our home.  As much as I may have complained about how he was always underfoot or how much he smelled or how much he shed, I would love to have him back with all those undesirable qualities in a heartbeat. We still have his food and water bowls out because we aren't quite sure what to do with them yet. As Keith and I were laying in bed last night, talking about Rosco, we both realized that we both went to refill his water bowl yesterday evening out of habit. And it was sad this morning as we came home from the gym and I realized he wouldn't be greeting us at the door anymore.

But he's in a better place. And that's the best place for him now.

We love you Rosco.


Heather said...

So sorry for your loss Katie. Glad he is feeling better now though. XoXo

kristi said...

Oh Katie I am so sorry. How HARD that must be for you guys- he was such a handsome dog! What a sweet tribute :) xo