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Tribute to Roscoe
Few people think of patience as a defining trait of boxers, but my Roscoe proved that boxers can be as patient as Job in the Old Testament.
We had lost our first rescue to cancer less than a year before, devastating both my wife and I. We adopted Roscoe from Boxer Rescue L.A. on a cold, rainy day. He was a skinny but handsome fawn male, who had just arrived at the rescue the day before. He had the face of a wise old man, and the name Roscoe fit him like a glove.
That day, despite what I later found out to be a complete hatred of water, Roscoe silently endured a brief walk in a hard, cold rain. He was very well mannered on his leash, and curbed himself when the need arose
On our way home, my wife and I quickly realized that Roscoe suffered violently from motion sickness. We pulled over, cleaned the car as best we could, and made it the remainder of the way home without incident.
Roscoe ended up with colitis. BRLA recommended a number of different dietary supplements that we tried. We changed our vet, trying a holistic doctor recommended by people we met at the dog park. We added additional medications and tried a variety of diets. Through it all, Roscoe endured. Poking and prodding from the vet; blood tests and a colonoscopy; x-rays and pills, pills, pills; he handled it all without as much as a whimper. At one point he broke out in pus-filled boils all over his body. The vet said it was the disease coming out through his skin. Roscoe lost so much fur, he looked like a victim of mange. Luckily, this only lasted a few weeks and soon Roscoe was feeling better . He enjoyed his morning runs and long weekend walks. He still looked forward to trips to the dog park, despite getting violently ill every time he stepped into the car. He had a friend a few doors away-another boxer with whom he occasionally played and went for walks.
In April, we decided to adopt another boxer in the hope that Roscoe would enjoy company during the day. Major was a LARGE male with the biggest head I've ever seen on a boxer. It didn't work out. It was immediately clear that Roscoe was MUCH happier to have us all to himself. He didn't want another playmate. He wanted our attention, he wanted to eat and go for walks, and he didn't mind spending his days sleeping.
We tried another new vet, starting more and more aggressive treatments to combat the colitis. By September, he no longer wanted to run. Walks were slower, with multiple stops. He no longer wanted to play with Guthrie up the street. No longer able to jump into bed, he chose to sleep on a chair in another room. About the only thing that could get him excited was seeing a cat on our morning walks.
In December, Roscoe declined quickly. We had to rush him to the vets. The call came on the morning of Friday the 13th-Roscoe's heart had stopped and they couldn't revive him.
We comfort ourselves by thinking we gave him a good home and as comfortable a life as possible during the time he had on this earth. But the truth is we gained so much more than he from having him in our lives.
Mike and Eva Campbell
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