— Feature, Musings —11.30.2024 11:15 AM
Roxy
Roxy was her name. Before I even met her, that was her name.
She was a black lab and boxer mix, and a rescue. I drove out to Woodstock with two of my sons to get her, and the owner – an old-time Ontario PC, who recognized me as a damn Liberal and joked that I couldn’t have her – had already called her Roxy. It fit. So Roxy she was, right from the very start.
She looked like a lab, but she was tall and slender, and she ran like a racehorse. She had these beautiful brown eyes, and they told you she was a gentle dog. She never bit anyone or growled at anyone, because she loved people, basically. People loved her, too, as it turned out.
I would bring her to work to our Bloor Street offices, every single day. Often, I’d go looking for her, and I’d find her with her head on the lap of one of the political consultants who worked for me. They were having a lousy day, they’d tell me, and then they’d feel Roxy’s head in their lap. She knew.
Roxy was an empath. The dictionaries say an empath is “someone who is highly attuned to the emotions of others.” Except she wasn’t a someone, per se. She was Roxy, my dog, and she had this truly extraordinary ability to know when you were sad or lonely or lost, and she would just sidle up to you and put her head on your lap. And you’d feel better, because she would console you.
I had no closer companion for nearly 15 years of my life. And, in all that time, she asked for nothing at all, other than to be loved back. And love her I did.
Roxy was with me every minute of every single day. I took her everywhere, and everyone who knew me knew Roxy, too. She was with me through marriage breakup, pandemic isolation, child disownment, betrayals and losses, and lots of crises. You know how it is: people always say they’ll check in, and they’ll help you out, and that they care and all that. But then they often just disappear on you.
Not Roxy. Roxy the empath would always always always be there, head on your lap, looking up with those brown eyes. Knowing.
When my Mom was dying, Roxy knew that was happening, too. She’d linger by me, watching. And when I would go to sit at her bedside, my Mom would ask about her, because she loved Roxy. “She is such a sweet and gentle dog,” my Mom would say. “She has a soul.”
Is that true? Can a dog have a soul? In my religion, Thomas Aquinas said that animals do not have souls. I guess that may have been true for Thomas Aquinas’ dog, but I don’t think it was for mine. Roxy had a soul. That was why she was an empath, I think. That was how she knew what people were feeling, what they were holding inside. She felt what they felt.
If she was here, right now, she would of course know what I am feeling and she would console me. But she is not here.
It is later. We are back from the vet – Picton Animal Hospital, who were wonderful – and I am writing this. I am weeping, and this time – for the first time in such a long time – Roxy will not be consoling me.
She is not gone, however. She is in the next room. She is with my Mom, head in her lap, and Roxy the empath is making my Mom smile. And I can hear my Mom laughing.
I had a job, I worked with hundreds of people. I had dozens of friends. When I retired my friends disappeared. All I had was my dog Doch. He never left my side. He was 14 years 11 months when he died. I died with him.
My best friend is gone now and I am left alone.
I am so profoundly sorry for your loss. I truly understand.
I first met Roxy, about seven years ago. Your brother suggested me as a potential dog walker, as I was working with their dogs, Liffey and Mick. It was a sad day, as you and your now ex-wife had just lost her dog Sloane. But I was there to meet Roxy.
She was, as you said, ready to love me immediately. She was a great listener on her own, hahaha, who immediately showed me what a good fetcher she was, and how well she responded with treats. She was a Wiley one though; she was quite possessive of the ones she loved. Which brings me to Joey.
Roxy was not only a great people dog, but an amazing Mother to Joey. She wasn’t around at first, as she had hurt one of her legs and was in a rehabilitation facility. When she came back to you, she took him over, bossed him around, and loved him, the little pest that he was. He kept her running, playing, and young. She always tried to keep up with him, putting him in his place when needed. He loved her so.
Roxy’s beautiful face had just started greying. Her mask grew over the years, as happened with seniors. But she stayed fit, and I’m sure as youthful as she could for as long as she could. Joey wouldn’t have it any other way.
I’m crying as I write this. I’ve got at least fifty pictures of her, enjoying her time with me. I wish I could share them all. She was such a good girl, and I always wished I could see her one more time.
But Warren, she’s young again you see. Pain free. She’s with all who left before her. Your mother greeted her with open arms, introducing her to your father. She’s rolling around in the sweet grass, chasing squirrels, lapping at the cool streams in heaven. But one day, one beautiful day, she’ll raise her head to the air. Sniffing… sniffing… she’ll turn towards a shadowy figure making his way to her, and she’ll run happily to that figure, full gallop. That’s the day you will meet again.
Sleep well, my beautiful girl.
Oh Warren… you found her and she found you. I am so sorry for your profound loss.
So sorry to hear this. I lost my dog a couple of years ago and I miss her every day. In time the heartbreak will ease and the happy memories will remain. Take care of Joey who will be missing Roxy as well.
Sorry for your loss . What a moving testament to such an old soul.
Sorry for your loss Warren.
Dear Warren:
So sorry for your loss of your beloved Roxy. She will be in your heart forever.
We have a rescue, little Toby who we feel the same as you do about Roxy.
Remember you are crying because of your love of Roxy.
Take care, B.Long.
Ohh, so sorry for your loss! Dogs are the best of friends and it is hard when they must go on ahead. Condolences.
I am truly sorry about Roxy for some of us (myself included) our pets are family. They can provide so much comfort. I’m a damned conservative but please accept my virtual toast to Roxy.
How beautifully written. You make all who read this feel the loss too. Although I don’t know you personally, I follow your comments/writings and know how strong, compassionate and courageous you are in standing up for beleaguered communities, including my own. It therefore seems to me that you are also an empath, and provide great comfort and support where needed. How wonderful then, that the two of you found each other.
I don’t know if this blessing is reserved for humans, but regardless it should apply – may her name be a blessing to all those she comforted and loved.
Oh my this is so very sad. My sincere condolences. I never knew Roxy but I am so very grateful you shared her with us via Twitter. What a beautiful soul. Hugs to you and your family. Kathryn Lundy
Sorry to read this.
Losing a long time family pet is one of life’s torments. They are by our side and affirm that we are OK during all of life’s peculiar changes… our head spinning ups and downs…. and re-affirm that we are going to be OK moving forward.
I appreciate reading about Roxy and that Warren chose to share this, especially during such topsy-turvy times.
So sorry for the loss of your dear friend Roxy. I had a great-aunt who maintained that every time you buried a pet, you buried a piece of your heart.
Sorry for your loss, Warren.
They do work their way deep in to our owns hearts and souls.
You are better for having known and loved Roxy, and for her to have known and loved you.
She will always still be with you, inside.
Sorry to hear about Roxy. Dogs may have short lives but they love us for that entire short burst of time.
Even when they throw-up something they ate at the worst time or handily release an atomic level fart while you’re on a zoom call.
I believe animals we meet and bond with along our journey, will be some of the first to meet us when we cross. Just to help us once again.
Take care
Of course she has a soul and it’s soaring.
Warren.. Yesterday was the first time we met and today I read this.
So sorry for your loss.
Our dogs are sanity in a crazy world.
Mike
South Upper Allisonville
The last time we lost a dog, Gilly, my friend Jeff sent me a note and it has stuck with me. Losing a dog is so hard, but it is so worth it. Condolences.
Every once in a while, a dog enters your life, and changes everything. Roxie changed you in ways that you may not realize. Warren,you are better because of her.
Your story brought me to tears. I feel your loss
I discovered this quite by accident, Warren, during a casual rummaging of X Twitter where I follow you occasionally. Sometimes I need a witty, informed and intelligent lift.
It turns out that Roxy is more than just my barber. I’ll just say that there was a companion – yes, a cat –in my life who, it seems, gave me much what you had with Roxy. That makes me able to truly sympathize, Warren – maybe empathize is the better word. I appreciate what you’re experiencing.
Losing a loving and long-standing pet can be like losing a family member for some. My dogs impacted my life unlike anything I would have known without them. Shedding a bit of a tear for you.
Pets are family members. They love, and they’re loved. As we age and spend more time alone, they become our closest family members – sorry for your loss Warren – grieving is normal and important, we do it when we lose the souls that are closest to us.
Too many times I have felt the hurt and too many times I have said no more I can’t feel that any more.
Time is a great healer, your writing brought those memories back to me, as they did I smiled with a tear in my eye. Then I rubbed shadows back who is with me in my lazy boy.
Thankyou warren and your right Roxy is with your mom.
A beautiful tribute, Warren, on behalf of all of us who have known and loved pets; dogs, cats, pigs and calves. Nicely done.
Thanks brother
“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.” – Agnes Sligh Turnbull.