Tribute to a Boxer

Many would say this is not an appropriate post for an endurance blog.  But as this blog really represents "me" I want to talk about my boxer, Doodle.

He came into my life a little over ten years ago.  A wilder puppy there never was...and in truth I thought this boxer would be the literal death of me as he raced through the house, took curves on the walls and across the backs of furniture.   No a wilder boxer puppy there never was. No harder pup to housebreak either.

Doodle came into my life when my first boxer Paddy died from Lymphoma after two rounds of chemotherapy, and every thing I felt I could do to save my boxer that I loved so much.

Paddy was my protector and he had the heart of a lion, and loved kids, and he loved me.  When he died I felt as though the very life had been crushed out of me, that it hurt to breath, to see, to smell.  I loved him that much.  And I felt that in my desperate love for him, I failed.  He taught me much.

 As my husband and I tried to grasp the loss of our first boxer, the only way we knew to truly get through it was to fill the empty place in the house. 

 Paddy's best friend in the world was my rat terrier/chi mix Spink.

Spink

Enter Doodle

Spink hated Doodle but came to an aloof toleration.

Spink died from liver cancer. He too met a humane end.

Where Paddy was my protector, Doodle was quickly understood to be "the nurse dog."  If you hurt, Doodle was there.  Be it physical, emotional, whatever, his little joyous spirit would lift you as he pranced with his toys, and gave boxer love the best he could.  He had licked away many tears, and given me so much over these years.

Then one day Doug found a boxer in a busy intersection.  Molly Two Toes Brown entered our household.  She was heartworm positive, and riddled with mast cell tumors.  She made it through heartworm treatment, and so many tumor removals that I lost count.  If I could say something about who Molly was it would be that she was grateful.  All the years we had her she stopped at the door and looked at me with longing eyes, asking...can I come in this time?  The answer was always ALWAYS yes.  She didn't know how to play, but she learned, and she loved Doodle and all his antics she would grin as only boxers could as he ran his wild laps around the half acre yard just for Molly's sole entertainment.   It has been a year or two now that we had to put Molly down as her legs could no longer hold her up and I think the mast cell tumors had finally got a hold on her.  My heart broke that day.

And it breaks again today.  Today was Doodle's last day with me.  We spent the afternoon in the recliner, and I stroked him for three hours knowing we'd make the drive to the vet today.  Doodle had a tumor on his heart and it was causing his lungs to fill up with fluid.  He would essentially drown unless I chose to intervene.  He no longer had an appetite, and my old boxer was surely tired.  I loved this one so...as I loved them all.  Our household is quiet tonight.  One little foundling rat dog left, and she is an old girl too.  So today I let go, the last of the great boxers.  Mom (yes, I'm mom to all my dogs) is crying, but I am also glad that you knew very little suffering, and that you were ALWAYS loved.  It is hard to say, but I think that maybe...you were the best.♥