(Wo)man's Best Friend

Just over 6 years ago, (6/12/2014) a squirming little puppy came into this world. Six weeks later, he rode ‘home’ in my lap. He was so tiny, he fit into my palm and wrist and anyone that knows me, knows I have small hands.

As a puppy, I recall a few things. How cute he was with his floppy ears, how inquisitive he was, (I never saw a dog that had to have his nose in everything I did as if he was trying to discern what it was or what I was doing, how intelligent and fast he learned, his interesting vocalizations, (he’s vocal more than he barks) – and his stubbornness.

As I shared space with this little body with a huge soul for the next 6 years, I came to realize he was like no other dog I’d ever had – as my own – or as the family dog. Ranger was both sweet tempered and extremely strong willed. He did not like being told ‘no’ and he made that abundantly clear in numerous ways. We learned how to peacefully co-exist though. I learned to respect his space and for his part, he at least attempted to pretend to respect me too. The simple truth is, I never owned Ranger. He owned me the moment he came into my life.

Ranger has had a range of health issues since birth. It was apparent as early as about 8-9 weeks old he had some sort of skin issue. I tried everything. More vet visits and tests than I can count, medications, a Dermatologist, Allergy shots and finally a clinical trial at the Vet College in Gainesville, FL. Only his Vets and I know how much I tried to do about his allergies. We found some ‘success’ in getting the itching under control, but his coat just kept falling out. Still, the skin issues were the least of it.

In 2017 it became apparent Ranger had incontinence. It seemed the cause was a chronic bladder infection. So, there were more trips to the Vet and more courses of antibiotics than I can count. Nothing worked. We were referred to a Specialist. It was found Ranger, a young neutered dog had a huge prostate and that sadly the prostate had, had a cyst that burst. That caused a pocket where the urine would gather and cause bacteria. I opted for an awfully expensive surgery to close the pocket. The surgery had limited success – and the prostate was still huge.

So, along with his skin and urinary issues, the size of the prostate meant the bowel is partially blocked which makes bowel movements difficult. Ranger has gone to the Vet numerous times for an enema to help him when he’s been too blocked to ‘go’. This last happened 3 months ago, in March. Unfortunately, he aspirated the (oral) enema and ended up with aspiration pneumonia. Then he developed his worst bladder infection ever. I thought I would lose him, but tough little stubborn, sweet boy that he is, he rallied.

This week however, it has become apparent he is in pain. He isn’t completely blocked, but he is struggling to go. There is blood in the feces. He groans and he shakes and hip-cups (not sure what it is but that’s the best way to explain it). I can see in his eyes; he isn’t feeling well. I can see – it’s time. His spirit is strong, and he and I have fought the good fight together. Tomorrow I will call his Vet – to make the appointment – to take one more journey together - to let my sweet boy go. Never have I loved a dog as much as this one.

For Ranger:
I’m going to miss your stubborn spirit and how you never fully learned to play by ‘my’ rules instead you remained unbroken in some ways and we just learned how to peacefully co-exist. Two different species, yet of the same soul.

I owe you a debt of gratitude for it was you who was my real companion while we were out on the road – and I was so isolated. It was you who sat with me in my sadness and grief during the loss of my marriage and it was you who sat at my side and licked away my tears.

I’ll miss the way you sometimes look deep into my eyes, almost as if we were communicating our deep connection – crossing species – we needed no words. The love was real.

Gawds, but your antics. I’d forget to shut the gate keeping you out of my bedroom when I’d take a shower. You’d get on the bed but as soon as the water shut off, I’d hear you jump down. As if I couldn’t see your paw prints or hear your thud. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t WANT you on the bed so much as your incontinence problem meant, I didn’t want you to pee on my bed.

When you were INVITED up, you had to be on your blanket. You were so amazingly smart, you actually understood this…I remember one night I forgot to shut the gate going up to my bedroom and realizing you weren’t beside me, I stole up to the room, to find you on your blanket sound asleep, tucked in the way I did it for you most nights.

I will miss your voice! I never had such a talkative dog. You had more vocalizations than any dog I’ve ever known. Barking was mainly saved for when you’d see turtles, squirrels or rabbits in the yard; but, it was the other noises, different whines, yips and noisy yawns that I learned to ‘understand’ meant different things. I’m hungry, I’m bored, please let me in, please let me out. Pay attention to me. Why can’t I be on the bed? I want to go run the back fence, I’m jealous and so many more ….

I loved the way you pranced rather than walked most of the time, had you not been named Ranger, “Prancer” would have suited you. And when you’d run, it was like a deer, you bounded and bounced. Even your tail, docked and a lighter color fur looked like a little deer when you ran. It always made my heart glad to see. You were so joyful with boundless energy. Your life force was so large, I’m not sure how it fit into your small stature.

I’ll miss your presence – lying on the couch or at my feet as I worked. The occasional pats on the head as I walked by you, or you coming over and lying your muzzle on my leg or jumping up insisting I pet you when I was trying to work on a spreadsheet. You were worth…

Every.
Single.
Interruption.

You were easy to train – housebreaking went quickly – even teaching you to ring a bell to go out. You were fun – “shake hands” for your right and “give me your paw” for your left, sit, lay down, roll over and speak to me – sometimes, we’d hold an entire conversation! You were brilliant and adorable.

But most of all – it was our bond. It was apparent how much you loved me – I was yours. I never owned you; no my sweet boy – you owned me from the time you were just 6 weeks old – the moment you road home from the kennel on my lap.

I love you Ranger. Wait for me at the Rainbow Bridge. I’ll bring treats.