Remembering Roo

It must have been early 2007 when I travelled to Ringwood to meet him.

He was a huge Weimaraner

He had lived all his 13 years with a European Family with two little girls who loved to roll all over him , play with his big, floppy ears. He accepted this treatment unquestioningly. 

They were moving to Colorado and couldn’t take him. I‘d been put in touch by a friend of a friend called Marg who heads up a group called “Weimaraner Rescue” 

I hesitated, mumbled & grumbled about it for a week.

Thought I may not be ready for another dog.

Mardi had only died two years prior. She had been with me for 17 years. Had I grieved enough?

Marg convinced me (nagged is to strong) that I had. 

Roo was delivered, (complete with Kennel, bowl like a bucket, and a lead that could have been used to tie up ships,) a week later by a tearful hulk of a Tradie called Mundy.

He, Roo,was similar in build to Mundy at that time.   
About 10 kilos overweight.

55 Kilos. He needed to loose some weight.

We walked every night. 

Ten minute walks soon became 30 minute walks.

30 minute walks became hour walks.

Every weekend through the backstreets, lanes and parks of Brighton we would go.

A sniff there, a poke around there, a pee over there.

And Roo would do the same.

Then came the dreaded Bloat.
Bloat is an afliction that affects some breeds of dogs. They try to vomit. Their belly swells and within hours they can be dead.

A three hour operation was done by Danny and his assistant in the middle of the night at Hampton Clinic. He came home just three days later on a Friday night.

Vital organs stitched into place inside, and staples like the zipper on a tent running from upper chest to lower belly. 

On Saturday I sat beside him, fed him water and painkillers and watched.

By four pm the tough old bastard was looking for a walk. 

We got back into our walking habit very quickly. 

He came to be called other names than Roo.
Eva and Jon, my housemates called him Stinky due to his flatulence.
I called him Sunshine.

When we were walking I used to sing to him. 'Your are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy When skies are grey...'

So he became know as Sunshine.

I got a bit concerned about him sleeping outside in his kennel in the winter so I invited him in to sleep on the couch. He accepted this stoically, but probably gratefully.

One night there was a huge crash. No. A loud but dull thump really. 
Three people raced from different bedrooms to the lounge expecting Roo to have a burglar in a death grip. But no. Roo had rollen over in his sleep, fallen off the couch and, can weimaranars have sheepish looks? 
Yes they can!

Early 2008 he developed Arthritis.
Badly.

A new diet and exercise regime were required.

The walks were shorter, more frequent, less hurried.

More a meander really.

I think it was about then I began singing to him.

“Your are my Sunshine” and“Sunny side  of the Street” were his favourites

I was happy, he was happy.
He never did manage the falsetto part though.

On Tuesday night of the 10^th of June 2008 we went on our evening stroll before dinner.

We had crossed the Nepean Highway into Hurlingham Park, Meandering around the boundary line.
On the outer wing he suddenly collapsed. Legs wouldn’t hold him. He struggled to get up but to no avail. In two minutes he was gone.

I imagine it was that big heart that finally gave out. 

It was quick. It was rhopefuly painless.
He was doing what he enjoyed most with the person that loved him most.

He was a tough, but gentle dog. 

My time with Roo was great fun.

Too short but wouldn’t have missed it for Quids

You were my Sunshine.