Rudy

My mom called me yesterday afternoon to tell me that they had to put our 18 year-old dog, Rudy, to sleep. There aren't words to describe how shocked and saddened I was, even though I should have been preparing myself for this day for years. In the past 6 years, there have been several back surgeries and more than a few bouts of sickness bad enough to make me think this might be the end. But he always bounced back better and healthier than before.

I guess part of me assumed he'd just keep doing that.

But this time, it seems, there was no bouncing back.

Being so far away in DC, I feel somewhat buffered from the full impact of this news. But what will happen--and how will it feel--when I go home to Colorado, and Rudy isn't there?

He's been a fixture--a family member--since I begged my parents to buy him from the pet store when I was 10. At the time, we already had two other high-maintenance dogs; the last thing we needed was a new puppy to train. But he was so cute, and it was so heart-breakingly sad that no one else had wanted to buy him: he'd been in the pet store for 8 months--so long that the employees had gone ahead and given him a name.

From the moment we set eyes on Rudy it was love at first sight, and he has been nothing but a wonderful, fun and funny addition to our family. From tipping over trashcans and pulling toilet paper off the roll to being the best looking dog ever to sport an Elmo party hat, Rudy will be missed. By me and my parents, certainly. By our other dogs certainly. But also by just about anyone who ever encountered him: Rudy was the kind of special dog that made even the most wary dog-hater fall in love, and I don't know how exactly we will get along without him.

Rudy with birthday cake on his face