Our beautiful Rio

Mar 23, 2018
2 min read

Rio.

I don’t remember a day without her. Our beautiful Rio.

Now, the house feels quiet, empty.

A kind veterinarian visited today to euthanize Rio after we learned she had a large mass in her abdomen.

We sat on the floor in our living room, Bravo rested on his pillow, and we told Rio how much we love her. As a sedative took effect, Rio lay down between The Weed and me and quietly drifted off. It was peaceful.

She’s no longer in pain. Thunderstorms will no longer scare her. Fourth of July firecrackers will no longer send her seeking shelter. I am grateful she is at peace.

It took some time for The Weed and me to decide how best to honor Rio. Yesterday, we made the difficult decision for euthanasia. It was time. Even with heavy painkillers, her pain remained.

I called the veterinarians at Home to Heaven and scheduled her appointment. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.

We knew yesterday would be Rio’s last walk through the neighborhood, her last chance to soak in some Colorado sunshine.

So, we grabbed a bag of Burger King hamburgers, a can of whipped cream, several dog treats, and headed to a nearby park for a picnic.

At the park, Rio eagerly devoured the hamburgers, outpacing Bravo who was trying to get in on as much of the action as possible. When the hamburgers were gone, dessert was next. Rio and Bravo enjoyed helpings of whipped cream and then we all watched the clouds drift across a brilliant blue Colorado sky.

Rio was happy. Bravo was happy. It was a nice day.

Today, it just hurts. Deeply.

Nearly 12 years ago, Rio bounded into our world. Her beautiful brown eyes made me melt as she was destroying our backyard landscaping. Her resume of destruction that first year was pretty spectacular. Still, even as she was digging up my rose bushes, she had the heart to trot into the house and spit her puppy teeth into my hands when they fell out.

On her first birthday, Bravo showed up. From the first day The Lellos were together, they balanced each other perfectly. It was meant to be.

Rio came into my life at a time when I really needed her. She saved me mentally and, on a few occasions, physically. I can never repay that devotion, that love.

Like me, she came from the back roads of Weld County. She knew how to effortlessly navigate irrigation ditches, how to corner the backyard rabbits, and how to send a chattering squirrel up a tree. Her spirit was pure, beautiful, badass.

I don’t remember a day without her. Jesus, this is really hard.