Since I've already introduced Rylee in a previous post, I may as well share a little more information on the "family". We are on our fourth Bully, but I will use this column to tell you about the first three...
I need to give a little background information about the situation that my wife and I grew-up in and how that shaped our view of the animal world. We are both German born children of American GI dads and German moms. Being of Central-European families, our moms were...how shall we say it?
Well, they were neat-freaks. Dogs were dirty, smelly beasts. Definitely not fit for a properly cared for home. Needless to say, neither of us had any pets growing up. Nope, not so much as a Goldfish. So...now we're adults (chronologically at least) and out on our own. The problem? We were renters. Translate: no dogs. So we compensated. Four Hamsters. Two Tarantulas. A Turtle. A Rat (Edgar was the best!). A Rabbit. We were the neighborhood petting zoo. The kids on the street loved us. What all of these furry, scaly, crawly creatures taught us was pet responsibility. Food, water, medicine, clean bedding, exercise, the whole shootin' match. Then...WE BOUGHT A HOUSE. Nothing can stop us now.
I will take a moment to admit that we are probably exceptions here, but we did two YEARS of research on dog breeds to find out what we wanted. We talked to breeders. We went to dog shows. We read books. We made check-lists. Then we went to the Crown Classic dog show at the IX-Center in Cleveland and found ourselves surrounded by 30-plus Bullmastiffs and that was it. Done deal. That is also where we met the woman who we would get our first two dogs from. That leads me to Rylee.
Our breeder had kept Rylee from a recent litter with the intention of showing her. Unfortunately, Rylee grew too fast and too tall and she didn't fit the Standard. Bad for the breeder, good for us. We got Rylee when she was 7 months old. All 25 inches tall and 95 pounds of her. She was beautiful. Fawn coat; big blocky head; thick, gummy lips. What a honey. As I noted in the previous post, she was special. Absolutely gentle. Rylee matured into a 130 pound plush toy. Man, she had a beautiful head. Old Boxcar head. Lots of Mastiff in that girl. Rylee loved everybody and as far as I could tell, everybody loved her. The only negative with Ryl's was her Vet bill portfolio. She was the "what can go wrong with a Bully" poster child. ACL tear? Check. Bladder infections? Check. Skin issues? Got it. She was quite popular at our local Animal Hospital. You know what? We didn't care. She was worth every penny and more. Every dog has a personality quirk. Rylee's was house plants. She loved house plants. Never met one she couldn't destroy. We had a six-foot tall fern in the living room in a 5 gallon pot. Had. She destroyed the pot. She shredded the fern. She spread 5 gallons of potting soil on the living room carpet. When I walked in the front door, she was PROUD! Look what I did, Dad. The vacuum cleaner never did work well after that...
Eighteen months after getting Rylee, we got her niece. If you need any proof that being a blood relation has no bearing on personality types, all you needed to do was meet Mags. Magee (pronounced: Maggie) was the anti-Rylee. She was ALPHA. Big-time. She was stubborn. She was a malcontent. She was obstinate. We loved her. She was Ying to Rylee's Yang. Frick and Frack. Magpie was a red-fawn, short, wide and full of Bulldog. Except her head. She had a little head. Or maybe it was that wide body. Did I mention she had a prey-drive? The neighborhood cats would point at Rylee and giggle. Those cats looked at Mags and shook. We never had cat poop in the flower beds while Magee was around. It didn't take long for the word to spread that Mags was not to be messed with. The yard was hers. Cats, squirrels, birds, didn't matter. They were intruders and she would not be intruded upon. Oh, that little wide dog was fast. Spooky fast. Remember Kirby Puckett of the Minnesota Twins? Short legs, thick chest, ran like the wind. That was Mags. My favorite Magee story? I was digging old bushes out of the front landscaping. I had clipped Magpie to the wrought iron railing concreted into the front steps by a 20 foot cable. She laid on the stoop watching me work. Our old neighbor Carl was walking his Lasa and stopped to chat. The little Lasa yapped and barked at Mags until she just couldn't stand it. She shot off of the steps and when she got to the end of the cable? She yanked the whole wrought iron railing out of the concrete! That little Lasa lost a year off her life, easy. If a dogs face can make the "oh crap" look, Zoe made that look. Classic.
Unfortunately, we lost Mags way too early. She came up lame one day and we took her to the Vet. One word you never want to hear: Osteosarcoma
Mags had cancer. We always thought she was too tough to get sick. So much for that idea. We only had Magee for seven years, but they were really good years. Miss you Mudpie...
We had made the decision shortly after getting Magee that we would always be a two-dog household. The idea was that when we lost Rylee, Mags would be 8 or 9 and we would bring in a pupil for her to train. Things didn't work out as planned. We lost Mags too soon but good-old Rylee stuck around for almost twelve years. Go figure. So...what to do? We spoke to our breeder, we looked on the net, then we started thinking about rescue. All of the obvious questions came up. Would we find the "right" dog? Would we get one with "issues". After a call from one of our contacts in the Ohio Bully community we took a drive to meet a two year old girl named Cocoa. What a cutey. Dark brindle, long and tall like Rylee. A little reserved maybe, but so sweet. We said yes. The first few days were typically transitional. Rylee had the "who the heck is this" look. Cocoa had the "where the heck am I" look. Pretty soon though we all settled into a nice little order. Neither Rylee or Cocoa were possessive or territorial, so we didn't have to deal with any "alpha" issues. Shortly after the adoption my wife took Cocoa to Pennsylvania for the Bullmastiff Specialty. She got her little rescue medal and got to parade around the show ring. Turns out, she's a bit of a ham. Even though she was our third Bully, and we had been "Bully People" for almost ten years by then, Cocoa gave us a first. Ever heard of hunkering? Neither had we. If you have not witnessed this phenomenon, it is something to see. Cocoa would haul-ass around the yard with her fanny tucked low to the ground. Full blast around in big circles, then suddenly she would throw herself at the ground! Thud. Roll, roll...bite the grass, kick, roll, bite the grass. Holy Crap! What was THAT all about. We had never seen anything remotely like that. Great, our dog is demented. That performance would be repeated many times over the next few years, it never failed to bring a grin.
Then...she came up lame.
Oh man. Maybe she tweaked her knee. lets not overreact. We gave it a day to see if she would shake it off. The next day she was still limping. Off the see Dr. Mark. Hmmm. not sure about this x-ray. Time to get another opinion. Off to North Ridgeville to see the Specialist. Oh no, not again. Osteo...come on...this isn't fair.
We consulted with our local Vet. We consulted with the Specialist. We searched the net and spoke with friends and family. In the end, we decided to let her be. We could have taken the leg and done Chemo. The quality of life question was our primary concern. How would she fair as an amputee? We decided, not well. So Cocoa is going to live out whatever natural life she has and it is our responsibility to make that time as pain free and comfortable as possible. Thank you's to everyone who has expressed your concern and condolences. Cocoa just had a check-up. The cancer has spread a little. Slower than expected, but still spreading. Her chest is clear. She plays (hard) with the new pup. She pulls like a freight train and best of all, eats like a Viking. How much time do we have with her? We don't know, but she will be loved, and we will be loved back. Best deal we'll ever make...
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