Missing Roxy

It's been six weeks since Roxy left us. I still miss her. Some days I'll remember something about her and start crying. I'm still grieving, though Trooper is a nice distraction.

The sharpness of the loss is fading, and Hubby and I have been reminiscing lately. Roxy had rough start, but all-in-all she had a good life. I wrote about her origins before we brought home Jedi. Although she mellowed some with age, Roxy was a mischievous, hard-headed, loving dog until the end.

For the last six months Roxy had occasional accidents in the house. To protect the carpet (and ease clean-up) we would confine Roxy to the tiled kitchen when we were gone. She had a nice Karanda bed, a thick quilt, fresh water and a few chewies to keep her comfortable. But that's not what she wanted. She wanted to be on the couch. She figured out how to get around every baby gate and blockade we set up. We'd come home and Roxy would be snoozing on the sofa, looking pretty damn proud of herself.

Roxy had no shame. If she did something "bad" she'd look at me definitely like it was my fault -- surely I should've known better. She had no couth either. Roxy would burp like a frat boy at a keg party. And if we happened to have our faces there then too bad for us. And if we were in the pet store and she had to poop then at least I'd have something to blog about. Twice.

Roxy was a picky eater. She didn't like crunchy biscuit treats. If it wasn't meat, she'd turn her nose up at it. (Surprisingly, she loved pears. Who would have guessed that?) She'd always inspect her food bowl before eating too. She'd look at me suspiciously, as if she thought I was poisoning her kibble.

Roxy was equally picky with toys. She went nuts over the laser pointer but everything else was beneath her. Most of the time she'd take a treat or toy just to tease another dog with it. She'd just lie next to whatever it was, daring the other dog to come get it. Both Logan and Jedi fell for this trick. The boys -- each 20 pounds heavier than Roxy -- would bark and whine, trying to get her to relent. This could go on for half an hour before Roxy would get bored and walk away.

Roxy was also evil to the cat. She would sneak up on Gucci and lift up her back end as she walked by. Gucci would yowl and I swear Roxy laughed. In retaliation, Gucci would sneak up on Roxy when she was sleeping and box her face -- no claws, but 3 or 4 good hits to the face. I think it was a love/hate relationship between them. About 6 months before Gucci died I caught the two of them napping together.

As I mentioned, we're still grieving. I've noticed that people grieve differently after losing a pet.

• I have a friend who cremated all her dogs and keeps their ashes in a beautiful box on her mantle. (This kinda creeps me out, so we always have the vet dispose of the remains.)
• My neighbor buried her dogs in a pet cemetery and visits them regularly. (She's obviously not a Stephen King fan.)
• I know someone who plants a memory tree for each dog. I think that's a beautiful tribute.
• Hubby saves collars.
• I enjoy looking photos of happier times. (And obviously, I blog.)
• Son #2 did something different. He got a tattoo -- his first -- in honor of Roxy.

The hardest part about having pets is having to say goodbye. I miss that old dog. -- K