Roxie came to me as a goodbye gift. 



At the time, my girlfriend and I were living in NY with two siberian huskys.  I got a job offfer in DC. The plan was that we would all move to DC, but at the last minute, she waffled. When she showed up with a dog--a 10 month old German Shepherd--I knew what that meant. She wasn't going. The dog was supposed to be a companion for me. She would join me later, she said. I tried hard not to warm to Roxie at first. I didn't want to bond with the dog I thought we'd have to give back. Little did I know then that that dog would save my life. 



I did move to DC--with Roxie in tow, without my girlfriend, and without my two other dogs. Within a few months, my girlfriend and I officially broke up. She moved to Colorado with our other two dogs, and it was just me and Roxie. I remember sitting on the floor with her, crying, and saying "It's just you and me bud. Just you and me." I loved her. She was the Roxie Rue, my dog dream come true. The Rox monster. My baby girl.



I am not proud of the next chapter in my life. Alcohol was the only thing that made the pain of the break up go away. It had been a 10-year relationship that started when I was still a teenager. I didn't know who I was without her. I had few coping skills, was in a new place, new job, new dog. But that is no excuse. I drank heavily for about 21/2 years. I adored Roxie, but I did the unthinkable...I'd leave her alone, night after night, sometimes all night...too drunk to find my way home. Neighbors complained that she paced all night long, worrying for me. She did not get walked, sometimes not even fed. I'd go on a binge and be gone for days at a time, with no one to care for her. As I said. I am not proud.



During that time, Roxie was my only friend, loving me, looking after me, despite my horrendous neglect. I often lost my keys, and gained entry through a fire escape. I'd pass out once in, my feet still hanging in the window. Roxie would try to pull me into safety. I'd be hung over, unable to get up. Roxie would pull the covers off of me, nudge her head under the pillow, anything she could to get me up.



I was so disgusted with myself, so miserable, that I thought about killing myself often. The ONLY thing that stopped me was Roxie, my dear, sweet Roxie. What would come of my unruly, unkept, neglected girl if I died? Would they put her down? I couldn't be sure. 



With a lot of help, I managed to get off booze. My single biggest regret was that I so neglected my precious dog. I hated myself for it, truly. I immediately began making ammends. Roxie got walks 3 times a day, special treats, as much love as I could muster. Still, I was imperfect. Women came and when. I moved often and changed jobs every few years. 



Finally I met a wonderful woman. We married, and she loved Roxie as much as I did. We settled into a nice family life and adopted another dog. All has been well. But Roxie started deteriorating. First it was her hind legs, then her hearing. When the seizures started I kept holding on. Eventually, she couldn't walk at all. It was time, but even then, on her last day, we carried her out to the porch and she sat there without a care, unable to walk or even move her hind legs, watching the birds, keeping us safe, without any complaint. I'd pet her for an hour straight and when I'd stop, she'd paw at me, saying more, more, don't stop. That's how I felt too. More. More. I don't want her to go, not now, not ever.



It all but killed me to put her down. I've lost family, friends, even pets, but I have never known such grief. I have never been more loved. I have never deserved it less. Oh Roxie. I miss you more than I thought possible. My sould hurts. Please forgive me.



With all my love,



Your Mama