Saying Goodbye

Today we said goodbye to our last boxer, Stogie. Stogie has been battling cancer for seven months now. It’s really a miracle that he’s made it this long. He had an inoperable tumor, which did not respond well to medication and made it difficult for him to go to the bathroom.

Stogie was my mom and dad’s dog, but he has been in the family for about 10 years. I still lived at home when my mom adopted him. We have always had a love for boxers. Actually, we have always had at least one boxer at home since I was a baby.

My first boxer was Ginger. We got her as a puppy when I was a baby. I don’t remember too much about her, but I recall that she was loving and playful. That is the nature of boxers. They are fun-loving family dogs who love kids and love to play.

Me and Ginger, my first boxer.

Our next boxer was Zack. He was born July 1, 1993. I remember going to pick him up. Out of all the puppies playing outside, he was the one lounging under a bush. He was too cute. We couldn't decide on a name, but in the midst of “Saved By the Bell” mania, we all agreed on Zack. He was such a cool dog. He was fun and silly yet had the most serious face. He also had his trademark blood-shot eyes, which gave him his distinctive look. Zack lived a good life and moved with us from North Carolina, to Indiana, to Pennsylvania, and finally back to North Carolina. He was 12 years old when he passed away in 2005.

Zack was down with anything.

Shortly after getting Zack, we wanted another boxer. We were lucky enough to find a sweet little girl and called her Lacy. Lacy was born April 1, 1994. She was the dog-love of my life. She was playful and so loving. We actually nicknamed her “Love.” She was very girly and just wanted to spend time with the girls- my mom, my sister and myself. She was wary of men and I always trusted her instinct. She was a great family protector. Lacy loved having her nails painted. I even painted her nails the day she passed away in 2007.

Me, my sweet Lacy girl, and my buddy Kiser.

Zack and Lacy had two litters of puppies when we were living in Indiana. The first litter, born July 1, 1995, produced just two puppies. We named them Doc and Blizzard. Blizzard was a rare all-white boxer with blue eyes. Blizzard went to a good home and we kept the male puppy and named him Doc.

Doc, sitting in a tiny dog bed.

Doc was definitely a special boxer. One of my favorite things about our boxers was that they were not just pets- it may sound weird but they were more like my siblings. I would get mad at them for chewing my stuff up. I actually had to tell a teacher once “my dog ate my homework.” I will never forget it. It was a constellation spinner for 7^th grade science class and Doc turned it into his own personal chew toy. Doc also ate my leather jacket, and when I say “ate it” I mean there was nothing left but the zipper. Doc wasn't the only troublemaker.  I remember the time I had just met James and saved up my paychecks from the law firm I was working at to purchase a Tommy Hilfiger handbag I had been pining over. James and I sat on the couch and I placed my new purse on the floor next to me. The next thing I know, Zack hiked a leg and peed in my new purse. It and all its contents were ruined. At first I was mortified and wanted to cry, but James looked at me and started laughing hysterically. I followed his lead. Looking back, it was pretty dang funny. The dogs weren't always causing trouble. When I was upset over boys, school, work, etc., my dogs were the first place I would turn for hugs and to shed my tears. They knew all my secrets, fears, and joys.  

As I was saying, Doc was something else. He was huge and goofy and always getting into something. If you wanted a hug, Doc was right there. He was so happy you couldn't help but grin whenever you saw him. Doc’s life was cut far too short when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The veterinarian didn't give him much time and he passed away in my arms on December 12, 2003 with James by my side. That was one of the saddest days of my life. I am so thankful I was there with Doc and James was there with me. The only positive thing about that day was that it showed me what kind of man James was. I couldn't have made it through that night without him. Doc passing before his parents, Zack and Lacy, was heartbreaking. Animals can feel the loss of a loved one the same way humans can. It took us all a long time to get over losing Doc.

After Doc left us, we moved into a new home and settled in. It wasn't long before my mom came across a skinny young boxer in need of a home. Being the animal lover she is, my mom brought him home to see what Zack and Lacy thought of him. I would be remiss not to mention we also had a lhasa apso named Corkey. We got her when I was 5 years old. Corkey was a loner. We loved her dearly but she would rather be left alone most of the time. Corkey paid the boxers no mind. With Zack and Lacy’s approval, the little boxer passed the test and we welcomed Stogie into our home. He was a bit skittish for a while, but once he felt safe he was right at home. He fattened up and quickly became part of the family.

Stogie at around 10 months old.

After we lost the other boxers and Corkey, Stogie was the last boxer. My mom vowed not to adopt any more boxers due to their propensity to develop cancer. I read, and confirmed with our veterinarian today, that boxers are 50-70% more likely to develop cancer than other breeds. Indeed, cancer is the number one serious health issue for boxer dogs, according to www.allboxerinfo.com. All of our boxers had some sort of cancer at one time or another. It’s hard to give your heart to one of these gentle giants knowing that there is a high probability that they will be diagnosed with cancer. Luckily, with the exception of Doc, all of our boxers exceeded the average boxer lifespan.

Fast-forward 10 years and many memories. We have known for 7 months that Stogie’s time was short, but there was no way to tell how short. We decided to keep him comfortable as long as we possibly could without him being in pain. Minus the tumor, Stogie was completely happy and lucid. He still ate well, played, and had the same gentle disposition. Unfortunately, last week, the tumor became so large that he was simply unable to go to the bathroom anymore. It was time. With Hurricane Arthur looming, today, Friday, July 3, 2014, had to be the day. My mom works at our dogs’ veterinary hospital, so we were able to take our time saying goodbye. My dad, James, Brady, Cecilia and I went to the clinic this afternoon. My mom was working and Stogie was already there with her. He was so happy to see us. I took some pictures outside (too bad the humidity caused several of my pictures to have a fuzzy appearance.) We spent about an hour together playing, petting him and telling him how much we loved him. Before we knew it, the doctor came into the exam room. James took the kids to the car and my mom, my dad and I kneeled next to Stogie and held him as he went. It was peaceful and sad all at once. It felt very surreal and it broke my heart to see my parent’s tears. My throat was on fire (from my recent tonsillectomy) as I was trying to hold in my own tears and be strong for them.

Stogie is the fifth dog we have lost. It never gets any easier and I don’t think it ever will. My only comfort is knowing they are all together now, in a place where there is no pain and suffering. It will hurt for a good long while, but time will go on and each of these dogs will hold a special place in our hearts forever.