My Riley

Riley Runyon, Our Best Friend (2000-May 2, 2013)

My husband and I loved our apartment, nestled among trees and greenery.  It was our oasis. Yet we dreamed of moving into our own house.  I wanted my own dog and a big backyard for him to play in.  Nearly 10 months after moving into our own home, a fixer upper to be sure, my husband agreed I could finally get my dog.

It broke my heart, walking through the numerous animal shelters, seeing all those dogs locked behind bars, without homes to go to.  I got teary-eyed more than once along the way.  My husband and I had slightly different ideas of what kind of dog we wanted, but given Anjin was the one who was reluctant about the idea  (he isn't a dog person), I let him take the lead.  When we first saw Riley, he was very eager to please.  He came right up to the bars of his kennel, tail wagging so hard his entire backside shook.  He was adorable. We were allowed to visit with him in a private room at the shelter, where Riley, as soon as he walked in the door, went to my husband.  A sign.  The shelter staff told us Riley was 2 years old, which is the age we were looking for.  The vet later told us he was more likely 1 year old.  It didn't matter.  Close enough and we were already smitten.

It wasn't an easy adjustment at first.  There were tears.  Doubts that we'd made the right decision.  Not about Riley in particular, but about taking such a young dog in.  I knew what we might expect on an intellectual level, but dealing with it all in person was a bit of a culture shock.  My husband and I had been on our own so long and suddenly we had someone else to take care of too.  I grew up with dogs, but my last childhood dog had been with us for 14 years.  I'd been a lot younger when we took her in.  As often happens, we got through those early baby blue days and Riley became a big part of our family.

I always joked that it was obvious Riley was adopted.  He had a boundless amount of energy that lasted him well into his senior years.  My husband and I have always been much more sedentary.   It wasn't until last year that he started to slow down.  He was diagnosed with arthritis in his back and put on medication that helped for awhile.  I scratched his head and told him, "We're getting old, ol' boy."  

I still remember the first day we brought him home, July 10, 2001, how shy he was, how cautious.  He still wasn't sure of us or of this new environment we were putting him in. We let him explore the house at his own pace.  At one point I had washed my hands and flicked water on him before drying my hands.  He took off like a shot and hid under our bed.  I felt bad.  Eventually he came to like my doing that and thought it was a game.  

The first time we heard him bark was in our backyard on that first day home.  He let out a deep clear bark.  We hadn't been sure he could bark.  The woman at the shelter claimed he was a Basenji mix and Basenji's cannot bark.  They make a yodel like sound instead.  Well, whatever other kind of dog Riley had in his blood, he must have got his bark from the other part of him.  

I loved Riley's coloring. Mostly white with patches of brown here and there.  He had a couple of paw prints on his back; at least that's what they looked like. He was beautiful.  He was slender in form, a smallish medium sized dog.  I swear sometimes I could see him smiling.  

Anjin and I struggled long and hard to come up with his name. I am not sure where Riley came from in the end, only that it came to me suddenly and we both knew it was the perfect name for him.  Wiley Riley.  

Riley was an escape artist.  he often dug under the fence and got into the neighbors' yards during his earlier years.  Occasionally he'd bolt out the front door if we weren't watching close enough--sometimes even when we were.  He loved to explore and go on walks.  During his unapproved outings, we would chase him around the block, not realizing the more we chased, the farther he'd go.  It took a few times before we realized if we stayed at our house, he'd come back.  Like a toddler exerting his independence, he needed to know we were close before he would continue too far.

He loved to be chased--and to chase.  He enjoyed a good game of tug-a-war.  He loved playing fetch most of all.  He could do that for hours, whether inside or out.  He was obsessed with balls and any type of throwing object really.

I loved how excited he would get after a bath, running around the house at full speed.  He sometimes did that--the tuck-butt-and-run routine, as we came to call it.  Getting out his excess energy.  Everyone in the house would stand still wherever they were, least he run into us and knock us down.  

Oh, how he hated baths!  He'd try to hide at bath times and sit or stand there and shiver as he waited out the ordeal.  I always felt so bad for him.  He always sat well for my husband when he got his nails trimmed though.  And he loved to be brushed.

He loved going for walks.  He was good with other dogs. although he preferred smaller dogs to the bigger ones.  And he was quite the jumper.  Boy, could he jump!  When we replaced the fence in the backyard of our first house, we made sure to get a six foot fence. Even then, Riley probably could have scaled it if he tried hard enough.

His enthusiasm when I came home from work or from running errands knew no bounds.  Anyone who has ever had a dog knows that there's nothing that can compare to the greeting you get from your dog when you walk in the door.  He'd nearly knock me down, his tail wagging fiercely.

Riley favored me of everyone in our house.  He was definitely my dog.  I had taken a couple weeks off work when we first brought him home and he and I bonded during that time.  Riley would follow me everywhere he could.  He was my shadow.  Even though he was a bit too big, he was very much a lap dog.  Whenever I would sit on the couch, he was right there, sprawled across my lap.  When I sat at my computer, he jumped up and curled up behind me in the chair so that I would have to sit on the edge.  

My dad was another of Riley's favorite humans.  When my dad when come to visit, he spent much of his time playing with Riley, throwing him the ball and sitting with and talking to and petting him.  Others did that with Riley too, of course, but my dad was a dog person through and through, and loved Riley like he was his own.  I know it must have confused Riley when my mom started visiting without my dad.

Eight months after Riley joined our family, I brought home a stray cat that had been living in the parking lot of the courthouse where I was assigned at the time.  He was just a little guy, an orange tabby, not even a year old.  My husband had grown up with cats and he and Riley's relationship was at times strained.  I wasn't sure how it would work, especially with my allergy to cats or how Riley and the kitten would take to each other.  There were moments on that first day we doubted it would work, but by the end of the day, after our consistent efforts to get the two acclimated to each other, they became fast friends.  Our cat, Parker, adored Riley.  He'd rub against his legs, initiate play and even tried to cuddle up to Riley.  Unfortunately, Riley was never much of a cuddler unless it was with an adult human.

It was the four of us for a number of years.  We grew closer together each day and life was good.  Riley eventually stopped chewing everything in sight but retained his overflowing energy.  Always in motion (except when we cuddled together).

A few years later we added another cat to the mix.  And while Riley and Anya got along great from the start (Anya was just a kitten), it took a long time for Parker to warm up to Anya.  Much like Parker, she adored Riley and would bat at him from the top of the coffee table when Riley walked by, teasing him and encouraging him to play.  She was even more of an instigator than Parker ever was.  

Things changed considerably when we brought Mouse home from the hospital.  I had done little things here and there to prepare the animals for her homecoming, but Riley, who'd for years had my undivided attention, suddenly had competition.  He was jealous.  And I was unable to give him the same kind of attention he'd had before. It didn't help that I was going through Postpartum Depression either.  We often think in terms of how it affects the other humans in the house, especially ourselves, but it also impacts the animals.

I had hoped Riley would take to Mouse the way you see in those pictures--with babies and dogs cuddling up together.  Riley clearly didn't like Mouse initially, to the point where I wondered if I would have to do the unthinkable and re-home Riley.  Fortunately, my mom and a fellow dog lover talked some sense into me.  Riley was my forever dog, had been with me for all those years and was my first baby, and what we needed most was time to adjust to each other. It was rough going that first year, especially when Mouse became mobile.  We stuck it out though, and while I can't say Riley bonded with Mouse quite the way I had hoped, the two did eventually become friends.  At least, they found a way to co-exist happily.  Mouse enjoyed chasing Riley around the house and took to sitting with me and petting him when he was feeling at his worst.  She even offered him kisses to help him feel better and a pillow when he was resting under a blanket.  I loved it when we'd walk into the house after we'd been out and she would say, "We're home, Riley! We're home!"  I don't know that she ever really understood why she couldn't eat Riley's treats too, although she did like to give him treats--and often gave him her own food, on purpose and by accident.   

Riley held onto his youth for so long I began to think he was invincible.  I used to tell him he wasn't allowed to die.  These past three months, as his health went into a significant decline, I began telling him it was okay if he wanted to let go, not to hold on just because of me.  After numerous vet visits and different medications, we saw improvement and then the cycle would repeat.  Yesterday it got to be too much.  Tests showed that Riley had neurological damage complicated by recurring pneumonia.  We could have treated him further, but the prognosis was extremely poor.  My husband and I had to make the hardest decision of our lives.  We decided to let him go.  The doctors were wonderful and kind.  They agreed we were making the best decision for Riley.

The memories are flowing through me right now.  I can still hear the jingle of Riley's collar as he wanders around the house.  I can hear the pitter patter of his feet on the kitchen floor.  Out of the corner of my eye, I sometimes catch him running after a ball in the backyard.  I catch myself calling to him and looking for him.  It will be awhile before I stop going to the back door to let him out, I am sure.

Riley was my best friend.  He was my baby.  Words cannot express the love I feel for him.

Today Riley is with my dad.  They are playing fetch, no doubt. 

I love you, Riley.  Take care of him for me, Dad.    I miss you both so much.

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© 2013, Wendy Runyon of Musings of a Bookish Kitty. All Rights Reserved. If you're reading this on a site other than Musings of a Bookish Kitty or Wendy's feed, be aware that this post has been stolen and is used without permission.