Spokane Outreach Center, Jesus the Savior Outreach

Raising Rosco

Chapter One

The Bonding

The winter of 1999 was milder than most. Pacific Northwest winters get frigid air from Alaska or warm air from California. Some winters we have several feet of snow while in others the snow never sticks. Spokane is a schizophrenic surrealistic kind of weather place.

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Sue and I graduated high school, met and married in Spokane. Immediately after marrying we sold everything and went to Tulsa, Oklahoma to pursue an educational opportunity. After spending seven fantastic years in Tulsa, Oklahoma and giving birth to our two boys we were home sick and ready to return. Our parents still lived in Spokane and were not able to travel the two thousand miles to see their grand kids more than once a year. We believe that family ties are important for healthy kid growth so we weighed the costs and made the move back to Spokane in August of 1982.

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Our split-level home of seventeen years, nestled in a Spokane Valley culdesac, was a good place to raise our two boys, Daniel and Patrick. Schools and shopping were close, crime was extremely low, and life was peaceful.

This area of the valley had been a large farming community. Rabbits and quail scurried across the early morning roadway as we began each day. Fields of pumpkin, corn, and other produce interlaced the intruding housing developments.

Patrick had always loved animals, had a hamster as a child and constantly nagged for a dog. Once we bought a basset hound from a north-side family named "Berny". Berny slept in Pat’s room that first night. In the morning Patrick’s face was swollen beyond recognition. Burney went back to his old owners that day. Efforts to find the perfect family dog proved to be difficult because of Patrick’s allergies. The few we tried were usually strays that found us and proved to be nothing but trouble.

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Pat and I stopped by the county pound to look at the dogs, a common practice on the way back from the county trash disposal station. The Spokane County pound, not far from home, was just across the Spokane River. We greeted the receptionist, and made our way quickly to the kennels. Every dog responded the moment we entered, some loudly, others quietly, each competing for a new home. Patrick knelt down, put his face up close and ogled over the each dog. Most looked like wounded, rejected, and confused babies.

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This time we found a truly special Labrador puppy the color of ebony, with a slight deep dark bluish tinge. Displaying an extremely gentle spirit. Big black soulful eyes looked up at us with a longing we could not resist. "Pat, the last puppy we bought was a big mistake", I warned. The pup was so timid and insecure he could not stand upright, but sweetly crawled to the kennel door to lick my boy’s wiggling finger. Pat found a soul mate for life at that moment. I remember thinking "Uh-oh, dad’s not saying no to this one, we are snagged." The first choice line printed on the claim form attached to the kennel door had our name on it.

We hurried home to tell mom about our discovery. Sue had had it with dogs! She was at home a lot, so our dogs latched on and followed her relentlessly. After the last disaster she said, "No more dogs!" Nevertheless we burst with excitement into the house snatching her up and exclaiming, "Have we got a treat for you!" Being a little skeptical she soon figured out what her boys were up to. The magic worked! Pat’s bright face, the puppy’s eyes and my ecstatic approval touched her little girl heart. She fell in love just as we had.

Love makes us do crazy things! With mom’s approval we brought our new puppy home and began integrating him into our life. Patrick cuddled his bundle of fun by rubbing his face in the soft fur as the attendant handed over our new baby. Our Veterinarian Dr. O'Dea took care of the puppy’s health needs. The cold polished stainless steal table familiar to us seemed threatening to our yet-to-be-named buddy. Pat picked him up, set him in the center of the table and stayed close as Dr. O’Dea performed the exam and gave our baby his shots.

Pondering to identify the perfect name for the new family member was tedious. Each of us offered a favorite; Dan wanted to name him "Gordon" (Dan was not to keen on having another dog. When he was eight we bought a little Shitzu puppy. It did not work out so we found that dog a new home.) Sue thought "Max" was a good name for a big, tough, black dog and she figured he was gonna be big. "Simbo" was Pat’s choice but it just did not feel right. After many attempts "Rosco" stuck, with the affectionate nickname becoming "Ross".

Ross soon learned manners in the local obedience school where he and Pat were inseparable. Ross was deathly afraid of the truck and had to be lifted into our big black Dodge Ram for the trip to the north side of town. We speculated that it reminded him of the time he would up in a kennel with no family. The twenty-mile ride to the school each Tuesday night made Ross real queasy. Pat had to clean up the mess. Learning was a snap for them; no, stay, come, ok, sit, lay; we learned one word commands work best! The bond grew strong as Pat spent hours practicing and teaching.

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When we were away from home, Rosco stayed outside in a large fenced area Pat and I built just for him. Trying to keep him in it proved difficult. He always found a weak spot, a crack to squeeze through or a way to climb over. Pat and I found it challenging to figure out how in the world he escaped our pen. Sometimes we had to hide and watch. He found a spot to stick his nose in and nudged the fence post over just enough to squeeze between it and the playhouse. A little cement in the hole and extra connective heavy gauge wire fixed that.

Rosco quickly became a very special part of our family, known by neighbor kids as the big gentle black lab, Rosco. He learned to respect cats early in his life. One hiss or claw bat on his nose and Rosco became the perfect gentle dog around Sasha, the family cat. Sasha trained Ross to lay still and snuggle after many intense sessions of animal communication. Romping through our acre back yard and chasing the chickens became a favorite sport. We went for family bike rides and long walks on the Centennial Trail together.

These two guys grew fast! Rosco weighed about ten pounds when we first brought him home and Pat was a chunky little guy standing about four foot two inches tall. That dog got big so fast he did not realize that bounding and jumping on people could scare them and knock them down. Patrick and Rosco loved life and took every opportunity to fully embrace the world around them. In no time it seemed we had a 120-pound Labrador and a six foot two seventeen year old walking wall son. Pat and Ross displayed the same zest for life, gentle caring spirit and desire to protect their special family.

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Rosco went with us on family outings. Every summer Ross and the family took our sixteen foot Bayliner to Kalispell Island on Idaho’s Priest Lake, a ninety-minute drive from home. The kindred spirits became one with the dense wooded island. Ross was a good swimmer enjoyed chasing the ducks, fetching sticks and protecting the camp. He was always a gentleman, obedient, polite and intelligent. He displayed human emotions and understanding that shocked us. We finally owned a special family dog; companion and friend; long sought, seldom found a very cherished family member.

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The family purchased property in Bayview, Idaho on Lake Pend Oreille in 1996. We hired a man with a big caterpillar to cut a pad where we put our old 23 foot Terry Trailer. Ross guarded the camp. He seemed to recognize that his role as protector took on new meaning in the wilderness. One morning just before dawn Ross tangled with a vicious predator. A black critter with a white stripe was messing around in his turf! He learned to stay clear of the rear end of that animal. All day Ross was sneezing, rubbing his big snout in the ground and in isolation.
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The winter of 1998-99 was hardly like winter at all. It stayed above freezing almost all winter, even getting up to the low fifties a few times in January. February saw freezing night temperatures so we put an extra blanket in Rosco’s doghouse on the back deck. Extra insulation was placed on top of the house, in the form of old indoor-outdoor carpet. It wasn’t pretty but necessary temporary ugly was tolerated for the cold. Ross loved to pull the blankets out and chew them up. Then he would sleep on the pieces wherever they wound up.

The Event

On Monday February 2nd, 1999 Pat woke at 5:30 am as usual to get ready for school. He put food out for Ross; I hauled Pat off for the school day and then went on to work. Pat had not seen Ross, which was not unusual because Rosco choose to sleep in various places in the back yard, not always in his insulated dog house. But Pat was surprised that the doghouse was empty and felt a twinge of discomfort, "Wonder where Ross is this morning", he asked himself.

The day was typical. Monday afternoon I usually volunteer for a few hours as Chaplain at a local correction center but today I felt the need to go home immediately after work. I had learned to trust my sixth sense. Pat got home from Jazz Band practice just after I dove up. He went outside soon after greeting me to play with Ross. Rosco's breakfast lay cold and hard in the large stainless steel salad bowl we used to accommodate his voracious appetite. I heard Pat’s 220-pound body bound down the back deck stairs in search of his friend.

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The events of the afternoon began to take a new direction. I went down to the computer to work on some email/webpage maintenance. Sue came home; we greeted with a hug, and shared experience about our day. After finishing my work I went upstairs to start dinner. Suddenly Pat burst through the door, out of breath and very agitated. His words put a cold chill in us.

Pat was in a rage. His fists were clenched, face red, jaw set and his voice was quivering. Worn-out tennis show s hit the kitchen floor like elephant hooves pounding out a stampede. Two piercing, accusing eyes darted at Sue and I. Now, Patrick is a mild mannered giant, a stable, personable, composed teenager. I seldom see him upset, angry or disrespectful, so I pay attention if something riles him up. When a gentle giant roars it grips ones attention. "WHAT IS WRONG, PAT?", I challenged. ROSCO IS DEAD!

Pat found Rosco's 120lb body, lifeless, limp and as cold as an ice cube. We all ran to the back yard to see our friend. Rosco's massive frozen motionless body was protruding from the wheel well of one of my classic custom automobile. It looked as if he had stuck his head under there out of curiosity and could not get it out. His mouth had dirt in it and the hard ground under his paws had deep claw marks. Ross had struggled to exhaustion and finally given in to the night chill. We decided to rush to the vet. Pat felt there might be a chance to save his comrade.

Sue ran to our 12 foot gate, unlatched it and threw it open while I hopped in that black Dodge truck. After backing up as close to Ross as I could, Pat and I bent down, wrapped our arms around our buddy and lifted him, ever so gently, into the cab. Sue rushed to the phone to call Dr. O'Day at Heart Arrow and tell them we were coming as I propelled the rig out of the back yard, through our middle-class neighborhood and on to the Heart Arrow Veterinary Clinic just two short miles away.

We lay our lifeless companion on the same polished stainless steel, waist high table, in a very familiar room. Dr. O’Dea had taken care of Rosco for many years. As a puppy he was such a small wiggling, slaphappy bundle of energy that filled the center of the table; now his body was so large that his paws and tail hung over the edge. Sue got close and said "Hey Ross, you still in there?" She looked up at me, "I think he is still there, honey. He is trying to come back to us".

Chapter 2

Ross had never been to the vet for any type of sickness, only preventative shots. He had always been a healthy guy. His hips had seemed to be hurting him over the last few years due to wrenching them when he forced his body through our fence to play with neighborhood children. We called it his "old football injury". He got a little chubby a few years ago so Dr. O’Dea prescribed a diet and in just a few months Ross was his sleek trim self again. Keeping his weight down protected his hips from damage.

Dr. O'Dea told us to give him some aspirin if he seemed to be in pain. Pat said he had given Ross some aspirin the day before because he was having trouble getting up and down the stairs. Other than that we had not noticed any significant signs of illness. We planned to have his hips x-rayed to see if they had dysphasia. Extremely large dogs occasionally have trouble with their hips due to a genetic defect.

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"This dog is dead!" the doctor remarked. He checked for a heart beat with his stethoscope, nothing there. He took Rosco's temperature but it did not even register on the thermometer. Dr. O'Dea checked for respiration, there was none, he looked at his eyes, the liquid had coagulated into a whitish gray color. Then, with a pair of pliers he pinched Rosco’s paw but there was not even a slight response. Rosco was truly gone.

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I turned to comfort Pat as we faced the inevitable, his eyes welled with tears as he turned away, and left the room. Sue asked, "How can we dispose of the body"? Dr. O'Dea said, "Usually we cremate them in the winter, you can take him home and bury him but it will have to be a big hole, in frozen ground. "Yea, we need to cremate him", I heard myself say, still not really believing that we lost our Rosco.

Michael O’Dea, Dr. O’Dea’s son entered the room to assist his father. Mike had finished training and joined his father’s practice.

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Unbeknown to us, Pat had gone outside. He was wrenched to the core by the loss of his soul mate friend. Pat and Ross had been through some very hard times over the years. Coming home to play with Rosco enabled Patrick to endure the ruthless taunting of other children. He was always greeted with a broad Rosco smile, wiggling, jumping and loving Pat all over. When neither his mother nor I could offer any comfort; Rosco did! Ross was an integral part of Pat’s growth into a special young man.

Outside Pat turned to the only other source he knew could help him in desperation; times when survival was on the line and he was powerless to deal with it. He needed divine intervention. Pat was always sensitive to God. He had seen his mother and I call out to God when things looked hopeless. Pat prayed for Sue when she was doubled over in pain on the hallway floor from food poisoning. She immediately recovered! This boy became convinced that God responds to sincere heart-felt intense prayers.

Pat prayed, he turned his eyes toward the sky, and cried out to God from the depth of his spirit, "Jesus, bring Rosco back to me, please. I want him back, I love him. It is not his time to go." He stood silent with his hands raised. Pat had learned to approach life with faith, refuse to fear and watch God work. He turned back toward the building with burning anticipation, believing that things would be different when he returned to the family. Just as Pat re-entered the building something incredible, astonishing and unexplainable happened.

We were finished planning to dispose of his body and ready to leave. I heard the sound of the office door open and assumed it was Pat returning. My aching heart felt the pain of loss, my own and Pat’s. I remember looking sadly at Sue and Dr. O'Dea when a split second of deafening silence crackled through the room. I looked down at Rosco. Suddenly Rosco's head moved a little and he took an unmistakable breath. With that event a surrealistic, slow motion moment in time began.

Dr. O'Dea reeled back slightly and gasped. "He took a breath, he isn't dead!" exclaimed Pat. Skepticism, sadness, hope, fear and a flood of emotion caused me serious confusion. Everyone looked to me to decide what to do. Sue's un-definable look, O'Dea's words "He is most likely brain dead" and Pat, the little boy and his dog, whom I love beyond definition. The father won over the Businessman and I was compelled to say, "Bring Rosco back whatever it takes".

The large examination room with test equipment saline solution, needles, x-rays, warm blankets and anxious loved ones pouring over Rosco created an electric atmosphere. Sue and Pat talked to Ross, encouraging him to come back. "Hey Ross we are with ya bud, not letting you go." "We can warm him up, but his brain has not had blood for several hours, there is most likely frost bite, and we do not even know what the original medical problem was", Dr. O’Dea warned. They pumped him full of warmth and he slowly came back to us.

Twenty-four hours later we took Rosco home, sluggish but still the same old friend we dearly love. When the local news found out about what happened they were at the door doing interviews. Two teams from different local stations covered the story. Ross looked up at the reporter and immediately won her heart. Pat told of his belief that God had intervened to stop the loss of his partner as he escorted the reporter and cameraman through the frozen back yard to the place where Ross was found.

Summer Again

The hot August sun plays across the beach and Ross decides he is warm enough. He ambles over to the cool shade of a large pine on the island beach. He passes close to my lawn chair and stops to greet me. His deep soulful puppy eyes seem wiser somehow. Winter cold is behind us. Ross loves the warm weather. Old bones appreciate warmth. Pat is a major babe magnet, causing a stir up and down the Priest Lake shore. The bond is still close, friends to the end, Ross and Pat; buds forever. This once in a lifetime friendship is not yet over.