Remembering Bremo

Old dogs are a blessing.  If you've got old dogs it means that you've been fortunate to have shared many years together.  It also means you've got nice, well-behaved dogs who are fully adjusted to your household's routine.  Puppies and young dogs may be active, energetic, and keep you on your toes, but old dogs are good dogs and there's nothing like having a young one around to make your appreciate them all the more.  It was with much sorrow then that we said goodbye to Bremo last weekend. 


He has had a diagnosis of liver cancer for quite some time and we all knew it would eventually catch up to him.  He has also had a progressive loss of control of his back legs, presumably due to degenerative myelopathy, which has limited his movement.  It was probably a race between the two diseases as to which would claim him and it appears to have been a virtual tie.  He got to where he couldn't get up, which I attribute to the DM, but also developed breathing problems, which made me think that the cancer had finally spread.  In any event, it was clear from the look on his face Saturday evening that the time had come and the ice storm that was threatened for Sunday made me decide that we couldn't wait any longer. 


Bremo was born here, one of a litter of ten pups delivered by Maggie, our first foster dog.  I sort of helped with the delivery, although with Maggie and me it was a case of the blind leading the blind.  Like his mother, Bremo was definitely part Rottweiler and he embodied all the rottie personality that we love around here.  His brindle markings, build, and long legs make me think that his father must have been at least part Great Dane, and Maggie was known to have a fondness for big male dogs. 


I believe that Bremo was 12 going on 13, a good old age for a 100 pound dog.  He had remarkably few health problems over his life and zero personality problems.  He was the chubbiest of the litter of puppies and always made sure he took every opportunity to eat even though Maggie wasn't overly fond of nursing.  Bremo maintained his gusto for food throughout his life, even up to the morning of his final day.  It's debatable whether he loved food or petting more, but he never passed up an opportunity for either.  He had a Rottweiler's fondness for physical contact as all visitors to our home immediately discovered. 


Bremo and Cabell were together for many years and only had one disagreement, predictably over food, because Bremo would do the Rottweiler rush on another dog's food bowl if given the opportunity.  He's the reason that everyone in our household learned to keep their head in the bowl eating rapidly until it was empty.  Bremo was very much a homebody, I don't think he ever wandered off the property, and he had no real interest in going places.  He liked to stay near the last known source of food, which was always at home.  Up until the last six months or so I always fed Bremo and Cabell outdoors in the dog yard and each dog would go to his designated feeding location.  When all the bowls were empty, Bremo would gather them up and arrange them in a row or an arc around him, ready to claim them all if they were to become full again.  He was so food motivated that we probably could have trained him to do anything, but we never taught him anything other than "sit."  We didn't need to, Bremo had no behavioral problems and he just always fit in, which seems to be the special genius of the rottie breed. 


We are now without a Rottweiler in the household and Cabell is without his long time companion.  Our home and hearts have a rottie-sized hole in them.  We miss him but I'm grateful to have had him for so long and to have had him happy and healthy for so long.