Ragsland Lord Leroux

                                                                        2010 Ragsie 2026

Ragsland, Lord Leroux

March 19, 2010 – January 6, 2025

"I am smitten." With those words in June 2010, Joanne first told me about Ragsie. Our

purchase of the cute, slightly Ewok-looking fellow profoundly changed our lives for the

better over the course of more than 15 years. Sadly, our journey together came to an

end on January 6, 2025, when his dementia and internal distress convinced us to make

that dreaded, final trip to the vet's. Now we are bereft of the companionship and love

shown to us by both our beautiful boys.

Ragsie was our perfect puppy: calm, stoic, solid, beautiful and majestic. He was the Yin

to Mushu's Yang. The pet store owner told us that we would never have a problem with

our new puppy and, for the most part, her words were surprisingly prophetic. Ragsie

was, from the moment we brought him home, something special. He rarely caused

problems, he didn't bark at all for the first few months, he adapted well to crate life and

rarely had an accident in the house, He was one smart guy, our boy, and could run like

the wind. He loved his toy keys the most, and we couldn't give him enough peanut

butter in the Kong toy. No matter where we took him, everyone adored Ragsie, with his

big brown eyes and his adorable Koala bear looks. He took to obedience training like a

pro, and he won over the hearts of the girls at the classes.

Ragise wasn't perfect though, and he had a brief interlude of aggressive behavior when

he was about 18 months old. He learned to bark at other dogs, especially those walking

by our house, and he took an immediate dislike to a neighbor's female Great Pyrenees;

he would literally run up and down our fence line if Annabelle happened to be out,

barking ferociously as if she had somehow offended him. He even bit me once when I

tried to bring him into the house. Nothing serious, and my fault, but Ragsie was one

determined guardian of his turf.

One lesson I learned: when Ragsie growled, I gave him his space; Mushu’s growl, on

the other hand, was pure puppy bluster, intending no harm.

When we introduced Mushu to Ragsie in December 2011, our troubled teen grew less

aggressive and more attuned to his new little brother. From that point, they became

inseparable, still barking in unison at unwanted intruders or visitors. Barking turned to

tail wags, however, once they got to know someone, and we had little drama from that

point until their passing.

Ragsie liked to eat, more so than Mushu, but he also enjoyed his walks, especially

those long walks to the Penobscot River when we lived in Maine. He wasn't as much of

a snow bunny as Mushu, and he certainly did not like the matted snow and ice in his

hair and between his toes. He loved lying in front of a fire and cuddling on our bed, he

on one side and Mushu on the other, during those long, cold Maine nights.

I got a kick watching both of them trotting along, side by side, as if in step to an unheard

drumbeat.

Ragsie also didn’t seem to mind riding in the car, during long road trips from New

Mexico to California, and moving with us 13 times in 15 years. He took those trips in

stride, better than Mushu, calm for the most part so long as he had an open window

above his place on the back seat.

Ragsie was our Lion King, built to last, and we sometimes felt as if he might be with us

forever. Wishful thinking, I know, not realistic at all. But he was a trouper, our Ragsie,

and, despite his hearing and vision problems, and in spite of his dementia, that guy

would not quit. His brave heart beat soundly in his beautiful, noble chest until the end.

So now both our boys are gone, and I feel that the quality of our lives is somehow

diminished by their absence. We grieve for them as much as we celebrate their

presence in our lives. I would like to think that Ragsie and Mushu are now together,

running and playing in those eternal puppy fields. I hope so, or what else can I believe?

I for one still love Ragsie, and Mushu, with all my being, and I would like to think that I

am a better person for having loved and lived with them for so many blessed years.

I'll see you later, boys.