The Goofy, Wonky-Eyed Dog Who Chose Me

I'll warn you: this week has a more somber tone than my usual sassy repertoire.

We lost Ryley on Monday.

We got Ryley right before lockdown in February 2020. He was a rescue, and they estimated he was about a year old (though honestly, they weren't sure). His breed was a mystery, too.

We already had Cooper, a Black Mouthed Cur. Curs aren't exactly popular in Minnesota, but they're well-known as hunting dogs in the south. When we saw that Ryley was listed as a "Mountain Cur mix," I was immediately thrilled to find another one.

He was goofy from day one: a little wonky-eyed, with a smile that went from ear to ear. He was uncoordinated in the most endearing way and always seemed to trip over his own feet.

But what I loved most about Ryley was simple: he was finally my dog. Cooper is an amazing dog, but he has always been Andy's. They are like peas and carrots. Wherever Andy goes, Cooper is his shadow. The admiration and loyalty Cooper has for my husband is something you can feel in a room.

Ryley was different. He was cuddly and loving, but louder and more curious about the outside world. He was fascinated by the birds, the squirrels, and his absolute favorites: the chipmunks we called "chippers" that nested in our front rock steps. Every spring, without fail, he was on a mission.

My Buddy Through the Big Transitions

As the girls left for college and started their own lives, having Ryley around helped more than I expected. He was like another kid, but honestly much easier (and with no orchestra concerts I had to kindly smile through (sorry, girls)). He'd greet me every morning, try to finish Cooper's breakfast the second Cooper walked away, and then find a sunny patch to lie in.

He made the quiet house feel less quiet.

He was a little wild and sensitive, too. He had strong opinions about what scared him: thunder, the vet, trucks, sometimes other dogs, sometimes crowds. We never knew what his life looked like before he came to us, but we had our suspicions. So, we did our best to protect him from the things that rattled him.

Getting Older, But Never Slowing His Spirit

Cooper is 12 and still bounds off the deck like he's two. Ryley aged differently. He limped from a bad hip, and we tried our best with glucosamine and supplements. But the moment he spotted a squirrel chirping at him from a tree? He was a rocket. He'd take off at full speed and return with the limp.

My husband and I had even been talking about how, once the dogs were gone, we'd have more freedom to be spontaneous. Just jump in the car for a weekend trip. With two dogs, especially a 70-pound one who couldn't easily get in and out of the car, that's just not always possible. (Though he really did love "the doggy hotel," as we called it.) We're carrying some guilt about that conversation now. I imagine we're not alone in that.

Saying Goodbye

And then, suddenly, we were here. A decision that needed to be made.

Both of my daughters and my soon-to-be son-in-law came to say their goodbyes. We gave Ryley his favorite toys and his favorite chew: an old skeleton hand from a Halloween decoration. (I know. Weird. But it was his.) We sat on the floor with him, his head in my lap, as he took his final breaths. I felt his warm body grow still.

It was strange, but I felt a little bit at peace. I believe he went somewhere good, somewhere with all the other dogs we've known and loved. And I knew, without question, that he knew how much we loved him.

It's just not fair. Their time goes too fast. We're left with the big hole in our hearts and an empty food bowl with no kibble in it.

Cooper Knew

Here's something that surprised me. Cooper and Ryley were never perfectly in sync. Ryley wanted that connection so badly, and Cooper just wouldn't have it. But when we came home that afternoon, Cooper was different. More affectionate and closer to us than I can remember in years.

He knew. Dogs, I tell you.

I am so grateful for Ryley. He brought so much joy to our home and to my life specifically. I'll miss him nudging my hand to ask for pets. I'll miss watching him sleep like a giant ox on his bed all afternoon. I'm thankful for every single day he was with us, and I'll carry him with me forever, no matter where life takes me.

Rest in peace, Ryley Blue.