We had to let our sweet Rico go earlier this week. He had been slowing down and we thought it was just age. He saw the vet 3 weeks ago who told us it appeared to be age-related arthritis. Tuesday night, he collapsed in pain after walking up the stairs. He lost all use of his back legs in an instant. I brought him to the emergency vet and tests revealed that cancer or an infection was degrading his L3 and that he also had cancer throughout his liver. The vet on call let us know he was in an enormous amount of pain, so just after midnight early Wednesday morning, we made the most compassionate decision we could and said goodbye to our boy.

Rico was my first dog—the first one that was my decision and responsibility. I’d waited until I bought my own house and fostered for nearly a year to adopt. I reached out to Austin Sheltie Rescue about him and after a meet and greet to make sure he would be fine with my cat, Miles, I decided he was the one. I got him when he was 2 so he was past all that chewy puppy stuff. He knew his name, so I kept it. He had amazing recall, which I like to think was because he was so obedient, but it was really because he wanted to be with us. He was so friendly and outgoing. He never met a stranger, human or dog. He was 97% rough collie (not a sheltie mix like we thought). Rico was incredibly handsome and many commented on what a beautiful girl I had. He never took it personally. He was an amazing foster brother who helped countless dogs recover from surgery or come out of their shy shells and learn how to dog. His favorite place was anywhere between me and Jeff, but he especially loved the couch and bed. Rico would lose his mind and have an absolute meltdown if he thought it was time for a W.A.L.K. or if he saw us packing a suitcase. If one of us left for a trip, we’d get an earful when we returned. We could not watch any TV shows or movies where someone knocked on a door or rang a doorbell without him alerting us to intruders. He was a wonderful snuggler. He gave the best nose kisses. He had a ridiculous overbite. He was our welcoming committee when you entered our home. His bark had 1 volume level: loud. He would grumble when you’d make him move over in bed. We often slept back to back. He had the most adorable sploot. He loved running and barking at Walnut Creek Park. Over the years, he acquired many names: Rico Suave, Uncle Rico, Freako, and Bubba. He did not walk; he pranced.

Our house is quieter now–maybe too quiet without our barky boy. I think what makes it so hard is that, when we brought him in the emergency vet, it never occurred to us that he wouldn’t be coming home. We thought it was orthopedic, not cancer. Our only consolation is that he is no longer scared or in pain. We had a wonderful decade plus with him. He was very well loved. He loved us too. We miss you already, Bubba.