Rottweilers Ate My Laptop

Rottweilers. Computers. Cameras. World Domination. Not necessarily in that order.

Rottweilers.
Computers. Cameras.
World Domination.
Not necessarily in that order.

If you believe in love enough, love will never die

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Oscar Apollo vom Viersen, TT
October 5, 1994 – March 16, 2006

It has been exactly five years and a few hours since Oscar left us to join the rest of the original vom Viersen Rottweilers “4 dogs, 15 legs” crew. I was fine until the universe decided to punch me in the gut by sending me to a web page with the poem “I Stood By Your Bed Last Night.” You’ve probably seen it before, but since the author is unknown, I’m going to include it here.

I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, you found it hard to sleep.

I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
“It’s me, I haven’t left you, I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here.”

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times your hands reached down to me.

I was with you at the shops today, your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today, you tend it with such care.
I want to reassure you that I’m not lying there.

I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said “It’s me.”

You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know that I was standing there.

It’s possible for me to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty, “I never went away.”

You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew …
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.

The day is almost over… I smile and watch you yawning
and say “Good night, God bless, I’ll see you in the morning.”

And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you and we’ll stand, side by side.

I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out … then come home to be with me.

Maybe it’s not the universe punching me in the gut. Maybe it’s just Oscar making sure I never forget him. Like I ever could. He is tattooed on my shoulder. He still has my back, just as he did in life.

Miss you, Opie. Be good until I get there. I promise I’ll have your Big Red Ball and a lot of time to play.

From the photo files

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Nothing looks sweeter and more peaceful than a napping Rottweiler puppy and its older sibling.


January, 2004. Oscar was 9 years old. Freya was 7.5 weeks old and this was her third day at home.


February, 2007. Freya was 3 years old. Axel was 9 weeks old and this was his second week at home.

(NaBloPoMo | October ’10: 18 of 31)

We don’t wear no stinkin’ costumes…

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As I mentioned yesterday, the current Rottweilers are not clothes-wearing dogs. Actually, neither were most of the past Rottweilers. Oscar would let you put a hat on him. He would sit there, usually even long enough so you could focus a camera. And then he’d shake his head and send the hat flying before you could snap a picture. His timing was impeccable. It is truly ironic that my favorite photo of him, and the image I have tattooed on my shoulder, shows him wearing a bandana.

That kind of limits the possibility of cute dog outfits for Halloween. I thought about teaching them some cute trick, but you know I haven’t had much success with that either. Remember our “stop, drop, and roll” that I was supposed to have ready for this month, Fire Prevention Month? Well, we are still stuck at “stop, drop, and wiggle around on your back like a giant upside-down worm without actually rolling over.” That does not make for a very impressive video. “Stop” and “drop” are real solid, though. Guess we didn’t totally waste our time with obedience and rally training!

Dan got Axel to “jump to the left” and “step to the right” tonight, although the step looked more like a jump out of the way. So maybe we can teach him to do the “Time Warp” from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Not sure I want to go there with the “pelvic thrust that will drive you insaaaaaane” though!

(NaBloPoMo | October ’10: 17 of 31)

I was taken by a photograph of you

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I hope you don’t mind if I talk a little more about Oscar during his birthday week.

During Oscar’s last winter here on this side, I was taking a couple of classes at DePaul University hoping to finish the degree I started a very, very long time ago. I didn’t accomplish that goal, but I did earn some credits from a wonderful class.

Since the class was centered around instant photography, I don’t think it’s offered any longer, at least not in the form I took it. You can still see the syllabus online.

At the time I did the second assignment for the class, I had no idea we’d be losing Oscar just a couple of months later. He was going through radiation treatment after surgery to remove his right eye along with the malignant tumor behind it, but he was handling it well at that time.

Oscar was the most willing subject in our household and was happy to go along with whatever I wanted him to do for my portraiture assignment. I decided to pose him in front of a variety of different open and closed doors, mostly at our house. To get the ten photos I submitted, I shot twice as many Polaroids. Shooting film, and especially instant film, makes you think about what you are doing.

Note: Some of the photos in the linked Flickr gallery are a little rough to look at, especially if you have or had a pet going through radiation treatment.

If you choose to click through and see Oscar and the doors, thank you. If not, I do understand. Either way, thanks for listening.

(NaBloPoMo | October ’10: 7 of 31)

A good dog lives forever

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Today is the 16th anniversary of the birth of one of the best dogs that ever lived (and if you can’t say that about every one of the dogs you’ve owned, I am so sorry). We had the honor of sharing life with Oscar for almost a dozen years.

Oscar was around long enough to teach Freya how to be a good Rottweiler before he headed over the bridge in March 2006. And as all good dogs will, he lives forever in our hearts.

(NaBloPoMo | October ’10: 5 of 31)