Roswell

 Oh to love Roswell, my 3 legged Colby Red Pit bull, with beautiful golden eyes that looked at you with only love. He was mine all mine. One of his legs was not missing but short and the other three legs had a hard time holding that 80 pound body of massive muscle. At 7 months, when I had the first pleasure of meeting him, he was awkward and very heavy when he plopped down in my lap letting me know very clearly that I was the one. My first baby, coming home each day from work had become my favorite time of day.

I have a bit of an obsession with stuffed animals so let me tell you I have a few. In our first weeks together he put those soft plushy toys in his mouth and carried each one down stairs. They were covered with doggy saliva and stacked in front of the door when I got home. All the toys had not been harmed in anyway just wet and soggy. He sat next to the pile of them looking so proud. How could I get mad, I kissed that huge head and the two of us carried them all back upstairs. He got a big bowl of food and a yummy green treat that he got to eat on the couch.

Roswell and I went everywhere together, the beach, camping, shopping, I even took him on a business trip once at the Virgin River Hotel in Nevada. He loved that king size bed and rolled over and over on the bedspread. Make sure your next hotel visit you just strip that right off. We found a little beach in Shelter Island beach that allowed him to be leash free. There were not a lot of other dogs there and people had no problem with him. He would use that little paw to dig holes in the sand, half-assed dog paddled through the waves and chased chihuahuas at a non breathtaking speed. On all of our adventures Roswell did the usual dog thing and put his head happily out the window, I worried about his eyes and found the cutest goggles on line that he could wear. And how people laughed when we drove by. He could not have looked better if he was in a sidecar with a scarf around his neck.

Visits to the park were always fun. “Why is his name Roswell?” they would ask and then look sad when they saw his little deformed front paw. I would laugh, “I found him at Area 51 camping and brought him home with me, the name seemed appropriate.” Children were the most interesting, when they saw him they would t-rex there arms and make fun of him. I was so glad he did not know what they were doing. so his feelings were not hurt.

We had much negativity together, being a pitbull, you should understand. Turned away from campgrounds, no attendance at dog beach and people would walk on the other side of the street when they saw us. But Roswell did not care and neither did I. We had a big back yard and a wonderful park down the street and a mailman that he could bark at through the front door everyday. We also had fireworks that went off every night at Sea World that he could howl at from the back yard and drive the neighbors crazy. I was very happy when Sea World shut that down, and so were my neighbors.

He swam through rivers at Zion National Park, looked over the edge at the Grand Canyon, slept in a 1979 VW camper at Ruby’s Camp in Blythe. Hiked through the narrows and Arches, Chased off a desert rat in Monument Valley. Saw the Hieroglyphics at Valley of fire and slept at the RV park at State Line, border between Nevada and California. Camped every year at Anza Borrego, he chased jack rabbits, chased is probably not the right word, he did the 3 legged trot, watched Big horn sheep walk through our campsite and did not make one sound. Followed me to the camp showers and guarded my door. Swam at lake Powell and played in the snow at Cedars in Wyoming. He barked at embedded dinosaurs in Vernal and got me kicked out of a hotel room in St. George. My fault, I forgot to tell the front desk.

We receive warnings and tickets multiple times at Mission Bay. Limped through Tecolote canyon stealing golf balls.

One day Roswell stopped going poop. He ate just fine and drank lots of water, but nothing. I fed him castor oil, fish oil pills and put him on wet food. The vet wanted to do something surgical, I said no and Roswell agreed. Don’t trust those doctors do we? I rubbed his belly and tried multiple alternative remedies, exercise had become a little limited his other three legs were growing tired of carrying the whole load. I googled, talked to my dog hoarding friend, she had 8 dogs, all pit bulls and was a massage therapist. Two days in we were scared, I almost wanted to just buy some diarrhea medication and put it in his food but my friend said absolutely not. Two more days passed, he stopped eating, stomach bloated. A small walk provided no resolution. That night we curled up in bed together and tried to sleep. As the sun rose Roswell began to whimper. He jumped out of the bed and wobbled to the door. I jumped up ready to take him to the vet and he moved to the patio door. The sun was rising over a cloudy red sky and Roswell limped into the back yard. I looked away to see the beautiful sunset and saw him squat. In that moment I saw the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Roswell’s biggest poop.