Ranger Minter

Ranger Minter

October 6, 2012 - November 20, 2025

He was:

The best gift ever given to our family. Thank you, Tim and Deanne Geurkink.

He was Dad’s buddy. His walking buddy, his truck riding buddy, his porch sitting buddy and his office buddy. Dad’s right hand man.

He was his big sister’s rowdy little brother. Eager to learn all she would teach him. How to bark on command as many barks as she commanded. How to play hide and go seek. How to sit and wait for her to hide a toy then releasing to go find it. If Dad was not available to rough house and play, he knew big sister was his next best shot.

He was little sister's guardian while she was little. He followed her around in preschool years, snout to bottom making sure she was safe wherever she wandered. But as the years went by, he found comfort in her. If Mom or Dad weren’t home, Ranger piled up with little sister in all the fuzzy blankets and stayed safe when the thunder rolled.

He was Mom’s forever baby. He always ran to her first when scared. Scared of the bath. Scared of the vacuum. Scared of the thunder. Scared of the fireworks. And though he may have been on the receiving end of all that comfort, over the years he became her comfort. When the sisters got too big to want to cuddle or need comforting much, Mom loved that he still needed her.

He was a beautiful apricot labradoodle. Just enough curl in the hair, not too tight. He often found himself charged by bigger, tougher looking male dogs. We were always sure they were jealous of what a pretty boy blonde he was.

He had a job for his first 6 years or so. As a result, many in our community own a sweet little labradoodle that is half his.

He was an awesome road trip and vacation dog. He loved riding the 13 hours to visit both sets of grandparents 2-3 times a year. He was as welcome at each home as the pets in their family and even more so by some.

He was a creature of routine. He expected a walk every the morning. Up until age 11 or 12, that consisted of about 2.5-3 miles daily. But he continued to walk most days even in his last 2 years with heart failure and a torn CCL. The morning of the day he died, he still walked 1.5 miles.

He expected a cookie at noon, dinner at 7, rough housing with Dad directly after dinner, a cookie at 8:30 and bedtime by 10. Usually he began reminding us by staring a hole in us about 30 minutes before each event until he received what he wanted. And if you didn’t get to bed with him by 10, he’d go without you.

He was loved by anyone who met him. And he loved everyone he met. We often joked because, although his bark sounded like he could kill an intruder, we knew he didn’t have it in him to hurt anyone.

Speaking of love, let’s talk about his heart. Heart failure is what lead to his decline. He was diagnosed 2 years ago with a prognosis of 6 months to a year and within days of that he tore the CCL in his back leg. Considering his prognosis we declined surgery to repair. To our surprise, he kept living life in true Ranger form. Now on heart meds, a pain med and a sedative (that only took a slight edge off of his energy), he kept going, hopping and favoring that leg until some time later when he could bear wait on it almost all of the time.

All the while, his sweet little heart grew bigger and bigger until it took up all the space he needed to breathe. And that is how much love and joy I think that sweet little man gave, his every last breath of it.