Farewell to my dear Rosie

Farewell To Our Dear Rose

With great sadness, I need to report that one of my beloved dogs, Rosie, died on Sunday afternoon, September 11, 2022. (In the picture below, from a year or so ago, she is the blenheim--the brown and white one--gazing up at me).

As everyone who met her knew, she was a singularly joyful dog, full of affection and enthusiasm for every human she met, regardless of size. She brought peace and comfort to so many of our residents over the years she spent with me at CCB, and she will be sorely missed.

Many of you probably did not realize that Rosie had actually been living with a severe form of heart disease for years. My son Moses (whose memory is slightly better than mine) recalls that the vet diagnosed her with Mitral Valve Heart disease in 2019 and told us that Rosie would likely live 6 to 12 months longer. Since the condition had no effect on her behavior, her energy, or her infinite capacity for love, we didn't talk about it much. Instead, we gave her the prescribed pill (raising the dose and adding another medication as the disease progressed) and enjoyed her company as much as we always did.

It was only last week that she began to slow down a bit, to show a bit of unwillingness to eat (which was a sure sign she wasn't feeling well--no one loved food more than Rosie), and to breathe in an increasingly ragged fashion. Still, she enjoyed walking, snuggling with her partner, Puck, and sitting our laps. Through a series of unexpected circumstances, Rosie was able to spend the last day of her life not only with me, but with my two sons, Samson and Moses. They were also able to participate in burying her behind their mothers' house. As terrible as the day was, at least we were able to spend it together.

We will always be grateful for the joy Rosie brought into our lives and so relieved that she didn't suffer any pain or significant discomfort before she died.