In Memory of Rosie

Jeanne, we were so sorry to hear this news. I know she was your best friend and that you gave each other so much love. Rest in peace, Rosie.   Our hearts break for you.

Goodby, My Beloved Rosie

Rosie died this morning, 9 July, in my arms.  She was 15 yrs and 5 months old, we were together for 14+ years.  

When Rosie came to live with me, I was considered her last, best chance: she had been in several homes, several different rescue groups, and finally we came together, with the proviso that if she did not make it with me (severe behavioral issues), she would have to be put down.

We had a wonderful life together; ultimately, I realized I needed her as much as she needed me.  I loved her absolutely, though we did have some trying times, as all families do.  

Love means making the right decision, this morning I had to make the decision that Rosie should die with dignity, rather than continue her rapidly deteriorating health.

I’ll miss you, my baby girl, I have no doubt that our lives have crossed before and will again in the endless cycle of life and rebirth.  May you have a fortunate rebirth and may I rejoin you again.

Rosie left some final thought she wanted to share with all of you.

jeanne, aka Rosie’s mom, albany ny

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS FROM ROSIE

I know it’s a sad time for you, Mom, but I want you to remember the good times instead, much better for both of us that way.  So think about the wonderful memories we share, the things we did, the adventures we had, and the great people we met along the way.

The mountains we climbed together, the trails we hiked, the timber rattlers we avoided on the summit of Overlook…  Remember when we got caught in a downpour on our way back down from there?  Our hiking buddy Alvin knew I was so cold and wet, when we got to the car, he held me on his nice soft tummy, under his clothes, until I warmed up again.  And the whole day we spent scrambling over rocks in the Catskills, again with our buddy Alvin: I was so tired that when I got home, I slept straight through the next day, didn’t even get up for dinner.

We lived in a great place, miles of trails and woods right out the backdoor; I knew every one of them, you even let me pick the trails I liked best.  My absolute favorite was the Kykuit Kill, nice little stream with a small natural pool, you knew I liked to stop there for a dip and some fresh water.  We did so much trail work together there was even a picture and article about us in the newspaper because of our volunteer work, about time someone recognized me, an energetic Boston Terrier, for my contributions to the natural world.  Chances are you never would have seen some of the critters we encountered without me, the fishers, coyotes, and Karner Blue butterflies.  And that silly hognose snake, tried to scare me with its fake cobra moves; well, I admit I was a bit startled at first until my natural instincts took over, but you reacted too quickly for me to demonstrate why I considered myself top dog in the Preserve.  Too bad, I never did get to taste snake.

I liked it when we moved, just the two of us together, and I could sleep in the bed.  Now, if only I could have trained you better to understand that sleeping in the center was my prerogative and you are not supposed to stir, even slightly, it disturbs my rest.  And blankets and bedspreads are my natural right, I might share a corner of a blanket or the edge of the bed, but it is only out of kindness. Plus, I gave you good reasons to redecorate: if I didn’t like the décor, I just ripped it up.  By the way, how did you manage to find a bedspread that I couldn’t destroy?  Not fair at all.

The folks we met were great, lots of good advice, and I loved my vet, Dr Snyder, always looked forward to my visits.  Really, how many dogs do you know that consider a trip to the vet a social event?!  The nice lady there who worked in the boarding facility: I was so mad the last time you went on vacation I just sat and stared at the wall, she drew a picture, hung it my space so I would have something to view.  Now that’s service with a smile.

And the nice doggy people you met because of me, the folks in NEBTR and SNORT, always giving sound advice, first when I was an irascible youngster and later when I developed some health problems.  And Dr Haupt at Cornell, she was a big help with my behavior after so many others thought I was a hopeless case.

Altogether my life had been really good, I’m so happy you didn’t give up like the many people and shelters that did while I was in my childhood.  We’ve had a wonderful life, we became a team in our many years together.

I want to leave you with one final thought and request…  I know there will never be another quite like me, accept that and keep me in your heart.  But I want you to share that love with another dog, so please adopt another Boston Terrier, there are so many of us out there who need a home and family of our own.

I know we shall meet again in the endless cycle of death and rebirth.  Thank you for having the kindness and compassion to let me die with dignity, I hope you are as fortunate at the end of your life.

Bless us all, humans and animals, and think good thoughts.

Love, Rosie

Trail Barks

by Rosie, assisted by her human mom Jeanne Dross

At last! I’m rid of the lousy weather, time to get out and see what’s up on my favorite trails, now that the snow and ice have melted and the rain has stopped. All those new smells and old favorites, check out the action, let my human know when something gets my attention that might be just as intriguing to her.

My human gets the picture, I’m curious, it gets boring in the winter, same old smells, same old window scenes, same old walls, icy trails. Mom knows I need new sites, sounds, and smells to keep me happy, plus, both of us need the exercise to keep in shape; humans think I’m a lot younger because I’m in such great shape, even vets compliment my youthful physique and fitness despite my 13 years, though Mom could stand to lose a few pounds.

Downer, she always keeps me on a leash, lots of people let their dogs run loose, we’ve both been chewed on by strangers, so I guess she’s right, I’ve even seen people knocked off their bikes by loose dogs. The people on wheels and the hikers know me, they like it that I don’t jump or bark at them, plus those really big dogs with people on top (mom calls them horses and riders) don’t get nervous or spook when they see me. I have a harness, mom says it’s better for my back than hanging on to my neck: bummer, it also gives her more control over me, she doesn’t like it when I try to charge into the woods. She just doesn’t get it that there are such great things to investigate.

I’ve learned to poop off trail. Humans really like that! Poop is to sniff, but even I don’t want to sniff it for hours if it gets stuck on Mom’s shoes. And bicyclists don’t like it on their tire treads, gets yucky when it smells all day and your bike is stored in a car that sits in the sun. Every once in a while, I forget my manners so Mom grabs a downed branch to flick it in the woods; just in case, she always carries plastic bags. She also thinks it’s a good idea to carry a bag with her to pick up garbage on the trails, something about tightening the abs and legs when she doubles over to grab it, our nature preserve likes that too.

We plan our daily excursions based on the weather, it’s a lot hotter at ground level so we figure out the trails we’ll hike based on temperature, time of day, available shade, and trail conditions. My favorite warm weather trail is shaded almost the whole length: about half way through, when I want to cool down, we go to a shallow stream, not only do I have a refreshing drink, but I get to stand in the water, it feels soooo good! Sometimes we’re on trails that don’t have water so I have my own special water bottle, with its own attached dish, even has a hook to attach to Mom’s backpack, it’s a souvenir she bought for me at the Times Square M&M store (bet she found special treats for herself that she didn’t share, but I guess I shouldn’t complain, at least she remembered me.)

Mom doesn’t like some insects , especially ticks, says they carry a lot of diseases besides Lyme, babesiosis, encephalitis, and some other foreign words I don’t remember. She has me vaccinated for Lyme, but just in case the bugs find me anyway, she drips a tick repellant on me once a month and carries a tick puller, which she uses on me and her.

I don’t want you to think Mom ignores me in the winter, she even shovels out her patio to make it easier for my potty needs. We have a rule, based on some obscure calculation called wind chill factors: basically, if the wind chill is below 10, we don’t do any long walks. Mom does not wear a hat, says if it’s too cold for her ears, it’s too cold for me, although I have been known to disagree. We walk in sunny areas protected from the wind. She tries to stay away from road chemicals, says they are bad for my feet, and wipes them when we come indoors. Also, if I start limping, she cleans my feet of snow and ice.

I’m Mom’s nose outdoors, we dogs have much better noses than humans, I smell a lot of things before she sees them; she can tell it’s good if I stand and wiggle my nose in a certain way: I’ve shown her fishers, eastern coyotes, hog nose snakes, bear tracks, and other critters, even pointed out coyote dens to her. But to be honest, her interest in wildflowers and Karner Blue butterflies is boring, I don’t like to hang around, walking is better, unless there is a nice meadow where I can wiggle on my back.

Time for me to take a nap, need to rest before our next excursion. Hope to see you on the trails.

Rosie