Rooney, our elegant, black-and-white Borzoi, or Russian wolfhound, is dead. At age five. From bone cancer. A terrible conclusion, by any description.
Not big news, perhaps, but it is to me. He was the most free-spirited, acrobatic, energetic, sunny, enthusiastic, delightful, downright funny dog . Never met a person or fellow canine he did not like. (That generosity did not apply to cats, rabbits or squirrels.)
We named him after Andy Rooney, because of his prominent, white eyebrows, which stood out against his black face. I kept Andy posted with e-mails on his development, even asked his namesake's advice when puppy Rooney chewed my loafers. Andy was no help. Said he raised English bulldogs. Didn't know much about Borzois. So much for canine guidance from the curmudgeon of CBS.
Rooney was the best companion: always game for an adventure, a walk, a boat ride. He used to sit on the aft seat of the runabout, almost like a person would, with his feet on the cockpit sole, thrusting his long, bony nose into the wind. It was comical, except that Rooney had an innate grace that always made him look dignified.
Once, when Susy and I were walking Rooney and Red, our other Borzoi, in an open field near a marina on the Chesapeake Bay, a flock of swallows -- hundreds of them -- began swooping low and fast over the field. Their aerial choreography was stunning to three of us. To Rooney, it was an invitation to dance. He began chasing the birds, leaping at times to see if he could fly. Around and again he raced, in great elliptical loops, exuberant, uninhibited, full of joy. The swallows escaped unharmed, of course, but it was a spectacle.
Rooney survived surgery when a portion of his lung gave way. He recovered and resumed his acrobatic ways. When a squirrel ran up a tree, Rooney would levitate in joyous pursuit. The squirrel always got away, but for Rooney, the pleasure was in the chase.
Three months ago almost to the day, we took Rooney to the vet because of a limp in his left rear leg. Bone cancer was the diagnosis. It was a death warrant. JFK once famously observed that life is unfair. Indeed it is.
It's not fair that dogs have such short lives while humans have such long ones. I would rather spend time with my critters than with just about any human I know.
Sorry to hear it.
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I'm reading it now.
Enzo is very wise. I'm sure Rooney was in his way too.
I miss my Caesar. I always will.
Dogs are superior to people. They love us unconditionally. Dogs are not vain. They just.....are. We can learn a lot from them. I think the closer we can live our lives like a dog...the happier we are.
Its wonderful that you have the memory of such happy times with Rooney.
There is a short story called "The Rainbow Bridge" that might interest you. I find its premise to be comforting.
While my saddest days were those on which I lost each of these beloved friends, my next saddest were the days to follow, when there were no wet kisses nor frolicking in the yard. Easy enough to remedy, ... when the heart is ready again.
Thank you, Terence. I'll know Rooney when I see him, by your loving description. He sounds like quite a gentle friend.