I’m awfully sorry to report that we lost our beloved dog RooRoo (Rusty) at the end of last year.

The doctors believe that he had a brain tumor and possibly suffered a stroke.

RooRoo was one of two dogs I have loved more than any other in my lifetime.

He was a rescue, severely traumatized when we got him.

But he grew into the fun-loving and affectionate if sometimes standoffish dog that we all adored — me especially.

Before I sorted through our photos of him (for this post), I was worried that seeing images of him would make me too sad to write about him.

But instead the opposite happened: they reminded me of how much fun he had in life and how fun he was to be with.

That’s one of my favorites: him cooling down after a long walk at Willow Water Hole. He loved going on long walks and exploring new scents.

During the early months of Covid, when I was struggling to pay the bills, he would sit up with me through the long cold nights, my faithful companion in some of the toughest times.

For all his peccadillos, he was the best dog I could have had. I genuinely loved and still love and miss him with every fiber in my body.

RooRoo, you were and will always be the ‘best dog ever,’ just like I used to tell you in the truck on the way back from the reservoir, remember? Your brother Paco and I talk about you every day and he misses you chewing on his ear, the price of admission to the bed. RooRoo, when you were dying, I told mamma that I didn’t know how I could live without you. I’m still here, RooRoo, but our lives will never be the same. You used to hate the Houston storms, sweet boy. There’s only one thing that gives me comfort: there’s no thunder in heaven. I’ll find you there as soon as I can, I promise, and we will be together again. I promise, sweet RooRoo. I love you.