You won’t remember this, Roscoe, but many years ago, in 2012, Kathie was saying we should get a dog. She wanted a Border Collie. Then while I was away visiting family she discovered there was a three-year-old Border Collie here in Orkney looking for a home. So when I returned you were brought to visit us – and, well, that was it, our long story together started.
You didn’t get a great start in life as a youngster and we were advised to change your name. Roscoe was one of my suggestions after Kathie rejected Buster, my original idea.
You were a goofy dog – giddy, one of our friends called you. Do you remember you hadn’t seen stairs before you came to live with us? Once you got used to the idea you would go crazy, running up and down the hall, up and down the stairs, in and out of the rooms. Kathie worried you would fall and hurt yourself.
We enjoyed lots of advenures together although you never really took to riding in the car, unless you realised we were going to one of our local beaches, like the Bay of Skaill or Birsay.
You enjoyed trips on ferries around Orkney and occasionally to mainland Scotland. The first time we went on the big ferry south, the Hamnavoe, we got out on the rear deck and you did an enormous poo. Well, we were outside, you figured, so why not.
You were not socialised with other dogs before you came to us so if we met another fido you would lie down, refuse to move, and stare. After some training at the dog class you improved a little.
Kathie and I made some mistakes with you. Soon after you arrived with us we took you to the West Mainland Show in Dounby and you were completely overwhelmed with the unfamiliar people, dogs and noise. Sorry.
Do you remember you would bark furiously whenever the telephone rang and we had to quieten you with biscuits? In fact, when we first had you any kind of bell or buzz set you offf. You would interrupt University Challenge on the TV by barking and running around the lounge when the students pressed their buzzers. After a while you got to know the show’s theme tune and would start trotting around the lounge before the questions began.
Sometimes when we came home we would find you had chewed your bedding. It took us the longest time to realise it happened every time the telephone had rung while we were out. Once we figured that out we would turn off the bell while we were out. Problem solved. Sorry about that too.
You made us laugh with your antics and it seems you had a sense of humour. You would enjoy pushing the bathroom door open when someone was inside.
Christmas and birthdays were great fun because you loved to rip the wrapping off your presents. In fact, you enjoyed this so much you wanted to open everyone’s gifts. Eventually we were no longer able to put presents under the Christmas tree because you wouldn’t leave them alone. But we didn’t mind.
You – or perhaps I should say we – never mastered walking properly to heel. You were always pulling on the lead, eager to get to the next smell of interest.
After many years with us, it was 12 in all remember, walks became slower and shorter as you had less energy. But you made it to the age of 15 years and 8 months which everyone says was a great age for a medium-large dog.
You accumulated a large list of daily medicine to be taken for your joints and your heart. This involved extra banana and blueberry treats to make the medicine go down. As you got older, you became more reluctant to take your tablets. Also, latterly, you started to beg for food at meal times. It was as if you were saying, I’m old now, I can do what I want.
Eventually, Kathie and I – and, I think, you Roscoe – knew we were getting towards the end. Your legs became weaker and you found getting up more difficult. There were occasional trips and stumbles on the lawn.
Then came that awful night when we were woken by the noise of you having some sort of seizure. It was like you were dreaming, twitching and moving your paws, but much more violently. Frightening for us and, when you came round, disorientating for you.
We were advised this could happen again at any time. We didn’t want you to go through a repeat attack, particularly if it were to happen while you were at home on your own. And we thought you were too old for brain scans and more treatment. We knew we had reached the end of our road together.
So that afternoon, of 31 July, forever etched in our minds, the vet came to the house. It was a vet you liked and your end was very peaceful.
Later that day, Kathie and I managed to dig a grave for you in our enclosure and, wrapped in your Peppa Pig blanket, we laid you to rest along with your favourite toy, Javelina.
It was the most difficult and emotional of days but we knew we had done the best for you, our old friend. We think you would agree. So many tears were shed by us – and have been every day since – but you are at peace.
Having your grave near the house means we can leave flowers and talk to you whenever we want. Of course, your memory lives on in the house.
There are so many reminders of you in our daily routines and seemingly silly events can “set us off”. In the morning I don’t have to save a piece of my banana for you to have with a tablet; if I finish a yogurt pot there is no Roscoe to lick out the container and get yogurt all over his face.
Well, Roscoe, it’s been a marvellous, funny, loving and loyal 12 years – thank you so much, old buddy, you brought such joy to our home, and left us with so many wonderful memories.
We feel your spirit in our lives. We love you. Dear Roscoe.
Graham Brown
Postscript
Kathie and I want to say thank you to everyone at the veterinary practice, Flett & Carmichael, for all their help. You were always made welcome, Roscoe, and everyone would make a big fuss of you.
In particular we should thank Kate Carmichael who spent much time getting your balance of medicine right.
And special thanks to Moira Sinclair who treated you in your later years, Roscoe, including those fortnightly acupuncture appointments with lots of treats, and who gave us much useful advice about managing your last days. It was also Moira who came to the house on the last afternoon to ensure you had a peaceful end.
Graham Brown Orkney 