9 Jun 2023

How Romanov Changed My Life

When Rob and I first met, I was a devout cat person. At the time, he was living with a couple of guys, one of whom had an Akita. It was a beautiful dog. Rob and his roommate started talking about Rob getting a dog. Specifically: a German Shepherd.

Oh no!

You see, I had been attacked by not one but two German Shepherds. Not that I fear them. I’m just not terribly comfortable around them.

Lucky for me, someone where I worked put up a notice in the break room. Siberian Husky puppies.

And that is how Romanov became the first and best Christmas gift I gave to Rob.

But why did I really want to give him a dog?

Around this time, Rob confessed to me he might want to have children “someday.” Which is fine. At the time, he was in his 30s while I was in my 40s.

Which is why I gave him Romanov. I figured if he still wanted a child after raising a dog from a puppy, he would definitely want a child in the future.

Long story short: Romanov changed his mind.

I may have had some influence along the way.

“You know, it took you only a couple of weeks to housebreak him. It can take months to potty train a child.”

“People don’t like it when you put children in cages.”

“It’s not as easy to find people to watch your children for a week or two while you go out of the country. Boarding a puppy is far less complicated.”

Not that I needed to point out the obvious, but I suppose it didn’t hurt.  

Romanov was a sweet dog. Everyone who met him fell in love. Even people who didn’t especially like dogs, because he was just this fluffy, gentle, eternal puppy.

Except our grandchild. Romanov was obsessed. He liked to nibble toes, would follow and protect. Relentlessly. Which can be frightening for a toddler trying to get to Mommy or Daddy and this big, fluffy beast is interjecting himself.

It was rather heartbreaking, in all honesty. Unrequited love.

As for me, I fell in love with dogs because of Romanov. Or, to be more specific, I love Siberian Huskies. I love their intelligence and stubbornness. I love the way their tails curl over their backs. I love they remain like puppies their entire lives. In fact, when Romanov was 10, it always surprised people when we said how old he was.

He loved to lie down behind our legs when we were sitting on the couch watching television.

He wasn’t allowed on the bed but couldn’t help himself when he had zoomies.

He loved to play with the squeakiest of toys. His favorites were toys that looked like Siberian Huskies and this fluffy lamb which is no longer sold anywhere that I can find. Every time he would “kill” one of the toys, we would buy another in whatever color was available. He didn’t care what the color was. We’re pretty sure it was the unusual texture of the toy.

We’ve been incredibly lucky with dogs. Romanov set a high bar. When he was diagnosed with cancer, we were stunned. He had an ulcer that needed to be excised. We sent him to surgery the next day, determined to focus on this one health issue. There would be time enough to think about his cancer treatment.

Only there wasn’t. He never recovered from the surgery. On Friday he had surgery. On Sunday he died while Rob was out running an errand. I was in the room with Romanov who was lying on a blanket while I studied for a certification.

Then I noticed the silence. I looked over and held my breath, staring at his chest, hoping to see it rise, even a little.

I called Rob. He hadn’t even reached the store.

He never came home with the organic, salt-free, fat-free chicken broth.

I kept two of Romanov’s toys—one Siberian Husky toy and one of the fluffy lamb toys, unstuffed but still a favorite.

We miss him every day.

He was the best.