Tribute to a Steadfast Heart

Rowan
Am. Can. UKC Grch. Dayspring Romyldale Rowan
4-17-89 to 4-28-04

Rain was pattering on the roof when I woke this morning. It took me a moment to remember why the gloom and dull rumble of thunder were appropriate on this day of all days. My shoulders slumped and feet dragged as I began the morning ritual. Time slowed then sped up as I watched the clock. Rowan was having another bad morning and refused the platter of sliced steak I offered him. He was disgusted when I made him swallow a pain pill. I sat over my coffee, reaching down to fondle his ears. There was never any question where to find him, always by my side. Time sped forward again when it was time to leave the house. I let him walk to the truck with a stop to relieve his bladder, then lifted him into the front seat. He showed a spark of interest and tried to root around in the debris on the floor. His prize was a dessicated old hamburger bun. I broke it into pieces and he nosed them about, then ate one or two. No accounting for tastes, I would have preferred steak for my last meal. Rain turned to sleet and it seemed the angels wept with me during the half hour drive. My voice trembled as I stroked his fur and told him he was a good dog. Compassionate faces met me at the door and ushered me to a room as I blotted my tears in his fur. Rowan huddled quietly in my arms, normally he would have demanded to be let down to face life on all four paws. I could feel him quiver from time to time. The vet asked if I was ready and I nodded, unable to speak. When the IV was in place and she was ready to inject the sedative, I knelt so Rowan and I were eye to eye, cradled his head in my hands and kept murmuring over and over that he was a good dog, such a good dog....then he was gone. The skies cleared during the drive home and I wondered at those fickle angels. Wondered how they could leave me in misery to rejoice in the arrival of a rare sheltie soul. Lad of Sunnybrook must have welcomed him as a brother of the fur for Rowan possessed the same steadfast heart.

Rowan was a rare dog. Not just beautiful to look at, though he was that too, but beautiful heart deep. He was my protector in a very real sense. He understood that there were things to fear yet never hesitated to place himself between me and harms way. The world is a threatening place without him near. Rowan had an absolute trust in me, trust I doubt I deserved. I remember the day he had an encounter with a porcupine. Ro sat patiently as I pulled each quill free. He could not prevent a wiggle and a wince midway through the procedure, but sat with head held high and lip quivering when I told him I had to do it. Such trust is humbling.

Who knows how far Rowan could have gone with the right handler. He finished his title at the Detroit KC show in 1995. It was a day of ups and downs, but in the end Rowan was awarded BOB then Group 1 from the classes. The win photo tells the story. I have that glazed "deer caught in the headlights" look in my eyes while Rowan looks supremely confident and well satisfied with the results.

Robear was used at stud only four times. He carries on through his son, Am. Can. UKC Gr. Ch. Romyldale Rory Macrorie ROMC, soon to be 14 years of age. Only once can I remember seeing Rowan at a loss and that was the day he was introduced to his first bitch in season. Caitlin was an experienced woman; a wanton, in short, a hussy. Ro peeked at her from behind my legs as she rolled voluptuously to and fro on the waterbed. He eventually overcame his shyness and Rory was the result.

Life after achieving that coveted champion title was a bit strange, I could not afford to special him so Rowan sat at home while I showed the youngsters. He did not take kindly to being left behind and would kick up a fuss when he saw me packing the truck for a show. Then I had the happy thought of offering the opportunity to show him to a junior handler. He had made one or two forays in the Canadian junior showmanship ring where co ownership is not required and enjoyed the extra attention. Kristina Jordan became his co owner and he soon taught her the ropes. He would patiently reset his feet every time she set them wrong. It was harder than I thought it would be to sit at ringside and watch someone else show my dog. They made a great team though.

Eventually Kristina grew up and Rowan was sidelined again. That was around the time Pam Moore introduced me to UKC shows. Rowan was twelve. I had finished the youngsters' titles and was without a dog to show. Rowan was ready and willing, so off to the shows we went. He was happy to be in the limelight again and finished relatively quickly considering some days his arthritis got the better of him. After that he was content to lie by my side and let the youngsters carry on.

Seven weeks ago I noticed an ugly swelling on his sternum. The vet confirmed my fears, diagnosing a round cell carcinoma. He could only offer us a few short weeks. Some days it was a struggle to to tempt Rowan's appetite. For a while I was bringing home pizza every night as that was all he cared to eat. His days were slowly winding down. I waited for his fierce spirit to tell me it was time, but Rowan was brave. He knew I still needed him. It took intercession from a friend before I could make the final appointment. Yesterday was a good day, he ate his steak and a little broth. He politely asked for a bite or two of my fried chicken, knowing I would not refuse him. I considered cancelling his appointment, but wiser folk gently persuaded me to let him go.

So, he is gone. I reached down to fondle his ears and found his grandson lying there.