Ross is in Doggy Heaven.

Ross

Age 12, June 02, 1995 - April 25, 2007

Ross was our best friend. We miss him.

Nickname: Roscoe

I remember when my wife and I went to find a dog. Our apartment neighbor had gotten a cute black puppy from a friend of hers and told us she still had some puppies left. Kerin wanted a female puppy, but when we went out to see the puppies, Ross nosed all the other puppies out of the way to come and say "hi". He had my heart at that instant. On the way home he was scared and sad because we took him away from his brothers and sisters. That only lasted for a short bit, though. After picking him up, we went to where our house was being built and he had lots of fun checking out all the new smells. We weren't well prepared for such a hot day and didn't bring any water with us, so we had to go through the nearby Wendy's drive-through to get a chili cup full of water so he could drink.

For the next few months while concealing his presence in the apartment, we worked on house training him. He'd get us up in the middle of the night to let him out of his crate. We did our best to hustle him outside before his bladder made him stop to pee. Many nights were marked by ushering him out through the apartment while frantically squeaking a squeaky-toy in front of him to keep his attention.

It wasn't long after we moved out of the apartment and into the house that Ross didn't have to sleep in his crate at night. He graduated to sleeping with us. Actually between us. Crosswise. It's a testament to how much we loved him that he would get the whole center of the bed while Kerin and I only got a sliver of mattress at the edges. Sometimes I'd come to bed late and find him sleeping on my pillow. I'd pat the mattress near the foot of the bed and whisper "come on down here, Ross". It would take a couple times, but with a grumble, he'd get up and move down to the foot of the bed.

Ross was smart. Really smart. He quickly learned all kinds of tricks including sit, lay down, stay, speak, roll over, and bang-you're-dead.

He *loved* to go for walks. We couldn't even say the word "walk" without his ears perking up. Eventually he even learned what we were talking about when we spelled it out.

After enlisting some help to train us to train him, Ross was the best behaved dog in the neighborhood. We would always walk him off-leash. He wouldn't leave us and would always check to see if we were turning the corner and staying on the sidewalk or crossing the street. If crossing the street, a quick "heel" was all it would take to have him in formation by my side. Once we got to the other side he would obediently stay in heel until I gave the "OK" at which time he would joyously bound ahead to sniff the next tree or fire hydrant.

Ross loved being near us. When I would be sitting on the floor watching TV, Ross would always lay right next to me and rest his head on my leg. On weekends if Kerin was out of the house, he would get lonely if I went to work down in the basement shop. He'd start to howl, I'd come up and snug with him for a while, then he'd be OK for another half hour or so.

Ross left us last year because of lymphoma. If I could have given a year or two of my life to him it'd be a trade I'd make in a heartbeat.

Thank you for coming to live with us, Ross. I'll always love you.