We said good-bye to Roxy last week.
We knew this was coming and most likely we would have to choose the final ‘when.’ It’s one of the hardest decisions for any dog owner. But even harder is watching your pup slowly fade away and lose their unique personality that makes them the ‘perfect dog,’ and Roxy was the perfect dog for us. So we focus on how very much she enriched our lives.
Roxy of course had been gradually slowing down as she got into her mid-teens. She was more selective in which squirrels she would chase, requiring they be close enough she had a shred of a chance, still taking satisfaction in chasing them up a tree. She slept more. Walks got shorter, and slower, and only in cooler weather, but she still enjoyed sniffing her way along with every new place we visited. Her lovable quirks were still there, as were her crazy sleeping positions that earned her the nickname Yoga Dog. And of course her famous Drop Flop & Rolls everywhere we went!
Over the last several months we started to notice increasing physical limitations and frailty. Our hearts held out the irrational hope the evil aliens would return the real Roxy to us. But our brains told us that Young Roxy would not be back, and all we could do is help make her life easier by adapting as best we could. We tried using a wagon for the longer walks to shore, but she seemed to think it was totally undignified and hung her head in shame the whole way. So Dave in particular patiently made the walk up and back four times a day, creeping along at whatever pace she took, watching for her occasional stumbles. Food, however, remained her joy in life and we could still tell the time of day within five minutes by when she would stir from sleep and start barking for dinner, or demand a cut of whatever we were eating. We had her checked out for easily treatable stuff and tried a few medications, but were not about to go down the road of invasive procedures to look for things we were not going to do anything about at 15 years old.
The last couple weeks saw a rapid decline. It occurred to us we hadn’t seen a Drop Flop and Roll since before we arrived in Daytona, and she showed no interest in other dogs or squirrels whatsoever. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, but that bright Roxy spark in her eyes was slowly replaced with confusion and disorientation. We realized she was at the point of existing, not living, and it was up to us to set aside our dread of life without her and let her go.
Roxy DFRs
It was easy enough to arrange for a home euthanasia vet to come to the boat. We knew it was the right decision, but fear and hope still can masquerade as doubt. That was when she gave us the signs that she was ready even in those 48 hours until the scheduled appointment: refusing a treat, sleeping past her usual very precise wake-up-and-demand-food time, having accidents. It was her way of silencing those doubts for us.
She spent the morning sleeping in the cockpit with the cool breeze, and we spent time beside her recalling all the stories of life with her, starting with the summer evening 14 ½ years ago when she followed us home on the base in Norfolk. We initially thought it was a fox barking at us as we rounded a corner, hence her name Foxy Roxy. She bonded instantly with Dave when he sat outside with her to help comfort this scared puppy. One of my favorite pictures is her looking adoringly up from his lap in the car while he smiles down at her. That was the moment I knew we were keeping her; three seconds after that photo she started retching and he was holding her out the window to barf. Jazzy, who didn’t care for most other dogs, surprised us by immediately taking on the role of mother and protector. Roxy had a penchant for chewing on books and my shoes early on, and we would come home to find an old book had been surgically extracted from its place on the shelf and shredded. We tried confining her to the kitchen, but she was an escape artist. Even with the swinging doors barricaded with dining room chairs, we would come home to find her there at the front door to greet us, curled plume of a tail wagging away, a destroyed shoe nearby, and chairs still in place. (We never figured out how she always escaped but suspect Jazzy might have aided and abetted.)
,We talked of the time I was planting a couple dozen pansies along a border in the backyard and looked back to see her following two pansies behind me digging every single one of them up, looking quite pleased with herself for ‘helping.’ Or when she emerged from the bushes in the corner of the backyard with a giant slice of pepperoni pizza. And the time she relocated almost an entire basket of unfolded laundry to the back lawn, which was now strewn with underwear, bras, and socks.
She had the neurosis of a Sheltie, with a keen eye for even the slightest change in her surroundings, barking if she noticed something in a different place. When we moved to Minnesota, it took about three weeks before she stopped barking at all the trash bins along the sidewalk on our Wednesday morning walks that hadn’t been there on Tuesday. She subsequently decided Wednesday was her favorite walking day because of the wonderful smells the garbage truck left in its path she could follow in the middle of the street.
When she was happy to see someone, she would bare her teeth in what was actually a ‘smile’ but to the uninitiated looked as if she was about to bite their finger off even though her little tail was wagging away excitedly. If she was really happy to see someone, they got her signature Happy Butt Dance, where she spun in a circle on her butt. And if she was really-REALLY happy to see you, it was the Happy Butt Dance while ‘smiling’ and squeaking like a small rodent.
She had a very special bond with Dave’s mom. If we rounded the corner on a morning walk and she saw JP’s car in the driveway, she would pull excitedly. We’d let her off the leash and she’d race down the street, into the house through the left-open garage door, and leap from the doorway of the sunroom onto the couch where JP would usually be waiting. When JP passed away suddenly, Roxy seemed to grieve along with us.
Squirrel Perimeter Encroachment Prevention was her mission in life. Dave would rile her up by yelling ‘squirrel!’ at the back door, and she would fly down the back steps and run around the side of the house barking furiously, having no clue if there really was a squirrel there or not. She loved car rides, and if she saw us packing up the camper would sneak into the truck and hide in the back for hours while we worked, determined that whenever that truck departed she was going to be in it. She’d stick her head out the window, eyes slits against the wind blowing her thick red mane back in flowing waves and passing motorists smiling at her obvious joy.
She was quite well traveled, having completed the Great Loop, camped in many National Parks, and done two cross country drives; her tally included three countries, 18 states by boat and at least another dozen by car, five Canadian provinces, and 14 islands in the Bahamas. She took the move onto the boat in 2021 in stride at the age of 11. I don’t think she loved the boat as much as tolerated it, just happy to be with us. If it was lumpy she’d be under Dave’s feet at the helm; calmer transits she would rearrange the pillows on the settee and stretch out across them. Dinghy rides were her favorite as she hung her front legs across the side to catch the breeze – the boating equivalent to sticking her head out the car window, I guess, and similarly garnered smiles from passing boaters. She didn’t like swimming but loved wading into the water at a beach or stream. When we explored a town, she was our ambassador, strutting along with her plume of a tail curled up over her back. So many people engaged us in conversation to ask what kind of dog or comment on how pretty she was. I can’t tell you how many times we’d be walking down a busy main drag somewhere and have tweens hanging out car windows yelling “I like your dog!”
We continued to share stories of her adventures, mischievousness, quirks, and goofiness over the morning as she slept deeply. How if you left your plate untended for even a minute and she thought no one was watching, she’d hop up on the table to steal your chicken kabob. Or if I left the treat drawer open even a crack she took that as an invitation to help herself. In actuality we weren’t celebrating her life as much as we were our life with her we were celebrating and how much richer those years had been because she chose us many years ago, and each day since. And this was comforting.
Roxy had this thing about being up on top of things.
Finally the vet arrived, offering her a spoonful of chocolate icing to start with, of all things! We were both caught off guard with that at first, but it made us smile to see her licking it up enthusiastically – her first taste of the delight of chocolate! It was followed by chicken from me – and lots of it – until the sedative took full effect. Then she peacefully slipped away as we tearfully loved on her, looking her pretty sweet self with those cute ears up in anticipation as they always are when she sees someone she knows. I’m thinking she had rounded that final corner and spotted JP and Jazzy waiting for her, with bacon in hand and a whole army of squirrels in the background to chase.
And chocolate. All the freakin’ chocolate she wants.
We are heartsick but not heartbroken, because having Roxy (and Jazzy before her) in our life showing us how to love, live in the moment, and enjoy the little things has strengthened our hearts and made them more resilient. And our many good memories will help us to recover, however slowly. But life on the boat will not be the same.
I used to think how unfair it is that dogs have such a short life span relative to ours. But now I think that might be a little selfish. Dogs give everything they have to their humans through their devotion, and their unconditional and pure love. We are their world and they express their adoration exuberantly every time you walk in the door, even if you just went to take out the trash. For them to lose their human would be utterly devastating and incomprehensible, truly break their heart from the hurt and confusion. Perhaps it is completely just and fair and right that we spare them from this as their reward for a lifetime of paying it forward. Maybe this final act of putting them before our own feelings, experiencing that grief instead of them, is an act of love so…well, so like a dog.
I am heartbroken for both of you. Dear, Dear Roxy. God Bless!
Hugs to you and Dave. Beautiful tribute to Roxy for a life well lived and loved.
That was so beautiful and made me cry at the same time. Roxy definitely was all that 🐾❤️ Ciaran and I are sending comforting thoughts, love and big hugs to both of you.. you both were the best puppy parents there could be. ❤️
So well said and I just loved walking through the memories of Foxy Roxy. My heart is both sad and full for you both as you find your way forward.
So many great memories, I’m smiling and crying at the same time
Crying a bit with you. Such a great memorial. I do think that first picture of Roxy and Dave gazing with instant affection is so precious. Love and hugs dear friends.
Oh, this was a tough entry to read. I’m so very sorry for the loss of your of your extra special companion and most extraordinary travel buddy. You certainly gave her an epic life of love!
Take care!
I am crying. This is such a beautiful memorial of Roxy. She was one of a kind. She has such an extraordinary personality. She knew she found a loving home the day she followed you. She loved selflessly and you returned that love. She had a wonderful life. My heart goes out to you 😢💜
So beautifully written! Been there….it’s the hardest thing to do and the silence is deafening for a while….but what a wonderful life you gave her! Big hugs to you both!
So Sorry for your loss. Treasure the wonderful memories you both made together with her.
You have a knack for beautiful words Karen. Funny, inspiring, loving, and heartfelt. I’m sorry for the loss of Roxy but so glad you found each other and that she could enrich yours and Dave’s lives while you enriched hers. I’m sure she’ll be found in all lands with squirrels, drawers with food, and far away beaches as you continue to remember her fondly.❤️