My beloved dog passed away recently. It wasn’t the start of a cliché country song, though I wish it was. Rosie took her last breath in the vet’s office where she had been cared for over the past 11 years. The compassionate vet gently administered pentobarbital as my wife and I cried tears of sorrow for our dear Rosie.
I will never forget the moment I held Rosie in my arms as her heartbeat faded away on the cold vinyl floor. After shedding a few tears, we stepped out into the bright sunlight of a bustling street in Sutherland, clutching only an empty collar and lead. Rosie, a boxer, held a special place in my heart. Each dog breed has its enthusiasts – Dachshund lovers, Labrador enthusiasts, Poodle fans – but for me, it’s always been about boxers. My childhood in South Yorkshire’s Dearne Valley was defined by Butch, a strong brindle boxer who was a constant presence. Whether allowing me and my toddler friend Lizzie to tug him around the garden or serving as my makeshift footstool, Butch was always there, loyal and patient. Butch was just the beginning. Through the years, there was Barney, Joe, and Maggie. My late father, a local GP, instilled in me a love for boxers. His collection of boxer books and unwavering dedication to the breed left a lasting impact on me. My father’s eccentricities, from his love of Florentine architecture to his passion for Elgar, only added to his character. The mystery of his fascination with boxers will remain unanswered, a part of him that I wish I had explored further.
My father’s childhood was in the 1930s and 1940s, living in a small terrace house in the industrial streets of a West Yorkshire town. Their home had basic amenities like outdoor toilets and tin baths by the fireplace. Keeping a pet for companionship was not a common practice back then due to the financial strain of managing household expenses. Similarly, my mother’s upbringing on a farm in North Yorkshire was focused on practicality rather than sentiment. Dogs were seen as working animals that belonged in the barn, not as pets inside the house. The tough life of small-scale farming during the interwar period left little room for luxuries or unnecessary expenses.
I don’t mind being compared to the lovely Rosie, as dogs and their owners share a special bond. My parents have been in love with boxer dogs even before I came along, so they were a big part of my life growing up. Joe, our third boxer, especially held a special place in my heart during my teenage years. He was always there to listen to my troubles without judgment, only asking for a belly rub and maybe a treat from the table in return.
In their later years, sweet Maggie provided constant comfort to my parents. My mum, always a country girl at heart, enjoyed walking her so much that my dad joked Maggie would hide her leash just to take a break. Fast forward to years later, when the topic of adding a dog to our family of four arose, there was no doubt in my mind. We deliberated between a cocker spaniel and a litter of eight-week-old boxers, but as soon as my wife and daughters laid eyes on the playful boxers, the decision was made. Rosie came into our lives, becoming a cherished member of our family. Our daughters grew up alongside her, treating her as a furry sibling and confidant. It feels like just yesterday when Rosie struggled to climb the steps to our front deck with her tiny legs. And then, more than a decade later, we carried her up and down those same steps as an illness took away her balance and coordination. We had to make the difficult decision to say goodbye to Rosie at the vet’s office. I miss our beach walks, stick wrestling sessions (she never quite grasped fetching), and even her unmistakable gassy emissions. But it’s her physical absence in our home that is truly felt. At 35 kilograms, Rosie left a significant presence in our lives. She would lounge between my wife and me during TV time and appear silently underfoot in the kitchen whenever I started cooking chicken or mince. While some may minimize the loss of a dog, to us, Rosie was a cherished and loyal companion deserving of our grief. Although we have experienced human losses recently, the space left by Rosie’s absence is unique. Mourning her is important, as she was more than “just a dog” – she was a beloved member of our family, filling our hearts with slobbery boxer-sized love.
