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Ryu Inu


I have the profoundly unhappy responsibility to write the news that Ryu Inu passed away on August 24th. He was in my arms when he trotted over the Rainbow Bridge. 


Some of you knew of Ryu's recent diagnosis of kidney failure made earlier this year, just shy of his 15th birthday. His prognosis was quite good, although our veterinarian made clear to me at the time that his at-home treatments would only manage the situation rather than cure it. At the same time, his cognitive abilities worsened over the summer. His eyesight was going dark and his ears were falling quiet, making the recognition of his surroundings very difficult. It was funny the first few times that I found him stuck behind a toilet or closet door. It quickly stopped being funny as the plainness of his growing helplessness became clear. Overall, his body was telling anyone who could see it that it was saying goodbye. I had no idea it would happen so quickly, as his condition worsened precipitously two weeks ago.

Ryu was my constant companion for the last 11 years. I adopted him in 2009, only a few months after buying my house in Holland. The time was right for a dog to join my family, a role that he fit into quite well for a then four year old who had grown up in a country house. He has since been a part of my life in three states, clocking in tens of thousands of miles from the passenger seat as we crisscrossed the country on many road trips. Like most life partners, he was there during life's happiest moments as well as the worst ones. I still laugh at the photos of his 10th birthday as he wore a birthday hat and ate his birthday cake (a slice of peanut butter toast with the number 10 spelled out in carrots) while dozens of friends milled around the house for the event. I also remember clearly leaving downtown Holland on Election Night 2015, distraught at having lost the race, passing up as kindly as possible the entreaties of my priest to do anything that she could. What I wanted... and needed... most in the world in those dark moments was neither people nor God. What I wanted was my dog. To hold Ryu in my arms. And I did. SO HARD.

He was also the companion to the people in my life. He was there during the many friendships made. He was there last year when Patrick became my son and also when James became my partner. He had dog companion experience as well starting with his best bro Linus. People would stop cold on seeing Linus and Ryu walking together in Holland, rightly charmed by such a handsome pair of gentlemen not seen on those streets before or likely again after. He fell into another pack here in Chicago, going on walks with fellow neighbor canines Kygo, Max, Buehrle, Ada and Linus (there were two! how lucky!) around the University campus.

Ryu's passive acceptance of affection was a constant source of joy. He didn't seem to particularly like getting the pets and pick-ups, but he did not complain either as people poured out their kindness onto him. A favorite picture of Ryu is of his being held aloft by a colleague. We had been walking around a picnic on campus, when she hoisted Ryu up and smiled from ear to ear as Ryu went limp and made the apathetic expression that seemed his trademark. It was a nearly perfect example of the lovely relationships, no matter how brief, he allowed people to have with him.

For 11 years, Ryu was with me when I woke up in the morning and there still when I went to sleep. Knowing that he will not be with me when I wake tomorrow makes everything hurt so badly that I freeze up. It took me 5 minutes to even write those two sentences. Ryu did not deserve the sufferings that had crept into his life. I'm relieved tonight that he is free of them. While I know that I made the right decision, I cannot escape the terrible thought that one day -- perhaps in the next life -- that I will be held accountable for leading Ryu to his end. I hope that the judgement is bearable because right now the grief is barely so.

Thanks for being part of Ryu's long and glorious life. I hope that you'll give an extra hug to your pets and people.





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