From Ryan to Rogue

Boys,

I know I’ve written about Rogue before, it was actually about this time last year, but a lot has happened in his life since then, and most of it hasn’t been great. Rogue is a big dog and big dogs get old fast. He has arthritis in his hips (and probably everywhere else) and he’s lost a lot of muscle and strength, which makes it hard for him to move around. He also has these giant lumps all over his body that make walking normal more and more difficult each day.

In my last post about Rogue, I think I wrote about how we adopted him and how he’s evolved with our family to welcome the two of you. Reagan, he didn’t know what to think when you came along, and I think part of him wanted to still be the “only child.” But he eventually understood that you were a part of things, and became protective over you the way he still does for your mom.

Koen, Rogue just threw his hands up and said, “why not? Might as well!” when you came along. From the moment you came home, you two had a different understanding. There was no nervous energy from him, and it didn’t matter if you hugged him, pulled on him, laid you head right next to his… whatever you did he was fine with. Maybe that is him growing older or maybe he just understood the new rhythm of things since Reagan came, but he was fine being your beanbag chair or snuggle-buddy.

With everything that is going on with him health-wise, I also understand that he probably won’t be around to protect you and watch out for you for much longer. We’ll probably get another puppy before long and that will be the dog you form the most memories with as you two grow up. But I hope that you look back someday and see the pictures of you boys with him and remember how much he loved you and how much we all loved him.

I mentioned in my other post how I never really had dogs growing up. So Rogue feels like my first dog, and in so many ways he is MY first. He is now almost 12 years old. We don’t run outside anymore and we don’t really go anywhere in the car outside of the vet. To be fair, he’s never really liked riding in cars anyway.

::Semi-funny story:: When Rogue was two or three, we were driving somewhere and he had his head out the window. I meant to roll up my window or the front passenger window, and I accidentally started to roll up his window. I mean, if he got his head stuck, it was for .2 seconds, but he’s never forgotten it and has never really liked going on car rides since. He still brings it up when its just he and I talking from time to time.

Rogue is a strange lab in that he doesn’t like water — he likes being dried off after a bath, but doesn’t like baths, ponds, or going outside to pee if it’s raining. He also has a strange love-protest relationship with food. In his younger years, he was the only thing I know that would eat faster than me (it’s something I’m working on, OK?). But he’d eventually use food as a weapon by protesting if he had a stomach gurgle, and found that protesting his food usually meant your mom or I would make him rice, eggs, or even run out to Wendy’s to get him a chicken sandwich just so he’d eat. Those drives, usually later at night, were never my favorite.

Rogue, your mom, and I have had a lot of big adventures together, and he was such an important part of your mom and I bonding. A lot of people say your first dog is like your first kid. In so many ways, they’re not at all, and that thought is way longer than just a passing paragraph. But your mom used to say, sometimes after a glass of wine or two, “isn’t it crazy how we have this life (Rogue) that we are in charge of?” We used to go to concerts and leave early because we didn’t want Rogue to be home alone for too long. We made our first friends as a couple, Amanda and Josiah, because they had a golden named Tucker who became your first best friend.

I think the misconception is that dogs are so great because they give you unconditional love and don’t ask for anything other than your love in return (and treats from time to time and that Wendy’s chicken sandwich during a stomach gurgle). And all of that is true, but dogs also can help develop you into the best version of yourself. They remind you to love through frustration, to go the extra mile when something isn’t right, and that anytime is the best time to be playful and affectionate.

I don’t expect you both to remember a lot about Rogue and Koen, being that you’re three, I’m not sure you’ll have any memories of him when you’re older — luckily, we’ll have plenty of pictures. But there might not ever be a dog that did as much for our family as Rogue, aka Cat-dog, aka Velvet Ears Helicopter Tail, aka Rogie Pierogi. He brought your mom and I closer together and it will be one of the saddest days ever when he’s no longer with us.

And that’s just it about dogs — the ups always outweigh the downs, the funny moments like when he tried to casually escape from the dog park and your mom nearly slide-tackled him into Alum Creek to rescue him, they outweigh some of the less funny moments (like all the times he ate our bathroom trash and had stomach issues or threw up in our closet (was it a play for those chicken sandwiches?). The love outweighs the loss, and it won’t take any of the sting off of the day he is no longer with us, but he’s given us everything and for that, he’ll always be MY dog.

Love you, pup.

Dad