This section is devoted to our beloved dogs who are waiting at the Rainbow Bridge. If you would like to include a tribute to your B.O.N.E.S. beagle(s) that crossed to Rainbow Bridge, please send your story and/or photo(s) to tributes@bonesbeagles.org.
Read all of the tributes by paging through them below or click on a name to go to a specific article.
We met this funny little guy in August of 2015; sweet, shy and keeping pretty much to himself, until the end of our first week together. Then the quiet one turned into a little troublemaker who loved to push up the wastebasket's cover with his enquiring nose and do the "quarterback sneak" between his foster sisters to grab their treats before they could.
The first time that I returned from shopping I was blasted out of my sneakers by an air horn "AROOO!" It was then that I learned this blast and his moonwalk dance moves were going to greet me at each return. He was a happy boy!
The air horn would go off every time one of our family would come to visit, and each morning Roscoe would greet Abbey Normal with a swooshy tail and nose to nose hello's. Molly was the last to get on the "I Love Roscoe" bandwagon, but as time passed, she too would touch base with the old man when they first woke or while passing each other in their yard. Roscoe also learned to let me know when he wanted to go out, where the "good boy/good girl" cookies were kept, and that Momma loved to take his front paws and dance to Cher's song "Little Man" whenever the Amazon commercial came on the TV. He would shoot me a look but always put up with my weird ways.
As our calendar pages flipped, our love for this boy grew and it wasn't long before my Josef told me that he wanted to adopt him. "He needs to finish out his days with us, no matter how long we have." He came to us with kidney issues and hypothyroidism, but since he was on the same thyroid meds as me, he and I were peas in a pod. No medical issues were going to deter us from keeping our promise.
Roscoe was dubbed "Sparky" by Joe and later "Sky King" because of the way he would fly off the top of the back porch ( a whole two steps!) to the ground below. The momma in me worried about his hips, but we joked about making him an "Underdog" cape for Halloween; the new kids in the neighborhood would surely get a kick out of that.
A few weeks ago Roscoe became an SSB (sensational senior beagle) and we signed on the dotted line. The kidney issues that he had come onboard with had long quieted and were under control. He was now eating three meals, although not as eagerly as before. But he was officially one of our pack and I began making plans as I gave him and the girls their goodnight tummy rubs.
We planned a party for him on the 10th to welcome him officially into our pack; the night before we had a sleepover for all our pups and our granddog Stella. They all took turns sleeping in Roscoe's new bed. Stella and Roscoe bonded on his first day here. That tail of his would swing like crazy when she came in the front door for her weekly play date.
The pups played outside while we cooked dinner and slurped down their suppers. Later as Roscoe grew restless, they all took turns following him around the house; he was their Leader of The Pack. Eventually the younger ones grew tired of walking in circles and settled down while I gave him tummy rubs and got him settled in bed for a nap.
Last week the tide had turned for him and changed our lives forever. The circles that he had walked in became smaller, and he became exhausted at the very smallest of actions. He continued to eat and drink, but the beagle eagerness was diminishing and by week's end, he needed to be prompted to eat. He would mentally "zone out" and we would find him staring at a corner of one of the rooms. The sparkle that had been in his eyes despite the growing cataracts was dimming, and by Thursday night, as he leaned against me and licked my hand, I knew what he was asking for.
The next morning, when our vet explained the situation and asked if I was ready, I told him "I'll never be ready, but he is." With our hands patting his ears and whispers that it was okay to go chase the bunnies now, he softly slipped away from us.
Roscoe taught me so much in that short year we had together and I owe him for the love he gave to us. Run free Little Man. I cry for you now, but we will dance again someday, I promise.
