My husband and I had to unexpectedly put our beloved Bucky to sleep yesterday. He did not pass at home but was able to be in my arms during his final moments. It still feels simultaneously surreal and heartbreaking.
Bucky just turned 13 last week as best we can guess. We adopted him 12 years ago after being found as a stray in Iowa. We liked to joke he was the product of a male poodle and female wolf. If he could talk he'd probably say his survival on the street was due to his cunning hunting skills but in reality I'm sure it was his finely tuned scavenger soul. The only thing he caught during his time with us were some baby rabbits but his ability to get into trash bins, onto countertops and search out food in the strangest of places remains prolific.
Bucky came with some separation anxiety and was not potty trained but we worked our way through that. He always remained a dog who loved to be at your side. Pets and belly rubs and cuddles on the couch were gently demanded on the regular and his favorite time of day seemed to be bedtime. I think he felt comfort in the idea we were all together in bed, not going anywhere till morning.
You could set your watch on Bucky's ability to know dinner time and he let you know if you forgot. In many ways he acquiesced to Butch's demands and forfeited toys, nylabones and wrestled with him when requested. But Bucky was always was first out the sliding door, first to get those treats and needed that top cuddle spot on my lap.
Bucky was a poor car passenger but a great boat dog. First time on the boat he jumped right off the front of the pontoon to catch a fish (again with those hunting skills) but he wised up quickly.
Bucky had the most beautiful coat. Puff Roo as we called him seemed to magically shed dirt without a bath. Bucky had single front dewclaws and double back dewclaws which he found very impressive. He became quite lumpy with lipomas in more recent years but was still wonderful to pet and give nose kisses to. He pretended to only tolerate them but would look back asking for more if you stopped.
Bucky hated being told what to do and had a stubborn streak to put it mildly. He somehow accumulated multiple places in the house that were "his" and let you know if you had taken it, Andy's side of the bed being one of them.
Bucky was a cold weather dog and thrived in the snow. He didn't trust dogs without tails and was a sworn enemy of felines. Vocalized his feelings on most topics and the house is so quiet today. Bucky didn't demand walks like his brother does but absolutely adored walks in the woods. Bucky never quite learned how to take treats gently or to actually chew them before swallowing or any trick other than sit. If he was the one barking at the front door you knew it was a squirrel or rabbit out there.
I miss his sassy bark. I miss him galloping through the house. I miss him drinking water loud and sloppy. I miss him warming up my legs on a winter day. I miss his exaggerated exasperated sighs at the slightest inconvenience. I miss him rolling around on the ground after a meal or a bath
or just after coming inside. I miss him kicking us at night when we were taking up too much of his spot on the bed. I miss him zig-zagging on walks, never deciding which side he preferred. I miss muting my phone as he was scared of various Facebook noises, and seemingly nothing else.
He will always be our Roosie. He will always be our best boy.
Jen and Andy Selvig
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