Tyson Whitman Willoughby Rogers

Shortly after losing our yorkie, Angie and I decided that we needed a bigger dog that could hold its own in the world. We took a dozen online quizzes about breeds of dogs and came up with a Boxer every time. After calling dozens of people, we decided to look at a litter and we met Tyson at just a few weeks old. He was a plain, black-masked fawn who wasn’t the biggest of the group, but wasn’t the runt either. He was just a plain little guy, in the middle. He crawled into my purse, and looked directly at us, and right then, Dan, Angie, and I made the decision. We knew he was ours.

To say he was ornery is the understatement of the year, but when you couple that with two inexperienced ASU girls, you have a minor disaster. One leather sofa and a few shower curtains later, we finally wised-up and began reading about the breed we selected. Energetic, silly, protective, loyal, and smart. We began to realize that he had outsmarted us over and over again, and a few weeks of training turned our boy into a well-behaved contributor to our little family.

Tyson has been an amazing little ambassador for the Boxer breed. Because of him, I began working with Boxer Luv to save other Boxers. Even though we purchased him (bad us—we didn’t know!!!) he represented everything wonderful about the breed. I can’t tell you the number of dogs that have come into our home and Tyson has always served as the balanced leader of the pack. When one of the fosters was absolutely terrified of Dan, Tyson circled Dan’s legs and snuggled the dog, showing the other dog that Dan could be trusted. He’s taught dozens of dogs how to use the doggy door and bounded up and down the stairs encouraging the dogs to TRY the stairs—they are FUN! One special foster named TJ who was used in dog fighting was so scared of our dogs that he was trying to fight all of them. I had TJ on leash all the time and was trying to calm him down and Tyson came over, stood a few feet away, and as TJ stood there growling and snarling, Tyson laid on the floor in front of TJ, turned his back on us, and went to sleep. With that one action, TJ changed. He stopped lunging, and attacking, and started trusting. Nothing Dan or I had done before that had worked. Tyson changed that little dog’s life.

Tyson turned 11yrs old last month—a nice, long life for a Boxer. In his years, he has been a part of fostering over 40 dogs and has been our special boy all along. He has made us laugh every day. He’s allowed me to smooch his little mushy face a million times before bed each night. He’s rested his head on our knees thousands of times and sighed in contentment when we would rub ears. His little nub wagged faster than any I’ve seen, and would turn his whole body into a wild dance. He allowed us to make mistakes, and forgave without hesitation.

Over the last few weeks, we’ve watched our boy grow weak and last night, we knew he was done fighting. He had a huge presence in our home, and his bright light had begun to dim. We had been hoping he would make it until Christmas but as the days grew closer, we knew it would not happen. The other night, he and I sat by the Christmas tree and while the other dogs slept peacefully in the dog beds, he laid next to me by the tree. I tried to make sure he understood the impact he’s had and how because of him, I feel like I’ve found something special that now defines who I am. I thanked him for being the first baby I’ve raised, and told him that I’m a better mom because of him. He just laid there and those deep, dark eyes seemed to understand. We’ve dreaded the day we would have to say goodbye and over the years I remember crying even thinking about losing him. It was fitting that Angie, Dan and I were the ones to be with him as he took his last breath....we were there for the beginning, middle and end of his journey. The hole is immense and the pain is so raw. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. His life was so meaningful and the love was so great that all of the sadness pales in comparison.

We will miss you every day, baby boy. Every day.

My Molly

When I saw Molly the first day, I melted. A blond, droopy-eared cocker-lab-something-or-other with big brown eyes. She was adorable. We begged our parents to keep her and because we were moving into a new house with a big yard, and lucky for us, they agreed. I was in eighth grade, a tumultuous time for a young tween and the thought of having a new little puppy to occupy my boring summer ahead made me beam. As luck would have it, she was the easiest puppy ever and we were so spoiled as she effortlessly learned the doggy door, never chewed, and learned her manners within a couple of short months. She was a piece of cake. She had a special fondness for me as our other little dog Skeeter loved my sister more than me. So, by default, Molly claimed me. She was ornery and silly, loved to make us laugh. She was always following me everywhere. She would lay on the bath mat when I would shower, and I would have to nudge her to move so I could get out. I think of the thousands of showers over the years…In fact, many times she knocked Angie over trying to get out the door to follow me—determined is probably the best word to describe her. She would stand in the yard and put her nose in the air letting the breeze blow back her ears. Then she would close her eyes and take a deep breath…she experienced life to the fullest and loved every minute of it. At about five, she began having seizures. Big seizures. She would lose all control of her body and would be terrified. We held her and calmed her, but the vet told us the prognosis was not good, yet they couldn’t tell us exactly why the seizures were happening or if medication would help. They told us to make her comfortable and that she wouldn’t live very long due to the seizures. Molly disagreed.

Today, my Molly girl took her last breath and she was seventeen years old. She watched from the window as I went on my first date. She took a picture with me in my graduation cap and gown. She sat by my side when our family fell apart. She nudged and encouraged me when new families began. She gave me the nod when I began to foster sick Boxers for the rescue and through her many eye rolls, she accepted the new task we were given and made it her own. She let me know that Dan was the right guy. She wagged with glee when I brought home Logan, then Kale. She was a constant. She was the most loyal and selfless companion during the times in my life when I needed it most. I loved that she and I had a little “girls club” in my house full of guys. My hand was on her heart when it peacefully stopped today and I think that's where it's always been. She loved fully. Always. When I brought home her collar a few minutes ago, I heard the little clinking sound in my hand that it made when she would walk, and the sound was unbearable. I will miss her more than these words can describe. I know right now she is running free and happy, eyes closed, head back with her ears blowing in the wind. I can see her now. She is my special little girl and always will be.