Logan was born in 2012, traditionally we celebrated his birthday on Feb 20th, President’s Day, but we don’t know for certain. He was born to a breeder in Renton and my wife gave him to me as a birthday present, though we did not bring him home until April 12 or so of 2012, so I think he was about 8 weeks old. Or that’s what I’m going with. He was a VERY cute, very small puppy.
His whole body then was the size of just his head when he was grown. We visited him at the breeders several times before taking him home. He was part of large litter. His mother and father were HUGE, 150lbs. Logan got up a little over 130, which is more than big enough, trust me. Trust...that’s a good word. We tried to trust each other and we did pretty well right up until near the end. I picked Logan out of all his litter mates by trust.
I had read ‘The Art of Raising a Puppy’ by those monks from New Skete. They talked a lot about eye contact and how to pick a puppy. You didn’t want a dog that avoided your eyes or one that got aggressive if you looked at it. Logan, of all the dogs there, was the one willing to look me in the eye and approach me. He wasn’t rampaging around, fighting or playing. He wasn’t too shy, though he would prove to be a little shy as he grew up. But he looked at me and I knew this was my dog. Finally, my dog.
We had a terrier growing up once. Racer, his name was. Dog loved to run. I didn’t raise him very well, I didn’t know how and he wasn’t allowed in the house. Which is a big mistake. But my parents are or were farmers. And animals weren’t loved ones there. You didn’t bring the dog in the house to make a mess of the place. And dogs are messy. Boy, did Logan go through a destructo-dog phase! But he aged out of it, once he was no longer a puppy, he never broke anything on purpose...except tennis balls. He never peed in the house, more than once, unless he was sick. He was SO good about that, that at the end, when he couldn’t get into the peeing position, couldn’t stand at all, he still wouldn’t pee on the rug.
Racer wasn’t with us long, sadly. We didn’t raise and train him and he was wild and loved to run. He wasn’t a bad dog, with us, he loved me I think. But he needed to be around humans and needed discipline. And my parents and I didn’t give him that. So he went to a farm where he stayed too wild and finally had to be put down. I wasn’t there for it. I remember Racer, but his loss mostly leaves me with regrets for my failures with him.
Racer wasn’t with us long, sadly. We didn’t raise and train him and he was wild and loved to run. He wasn’t a bad dog, with us, he loved me I think. But he needed to be around humans and needed discipline. And my parents and I didn’t give him that. So he went to a farm where he stayed too wild and finally had to be put down. I wasn’t there for it. I remember Racer, but his loss mostly leaves me with regrets for my failures with him.
Logan was with me basically his whole life, from April 12th 2012 to his death, Jan 09 2021. So losing him has been very, very hard. I know I won’t forget him, not soon, not easily, maybe not ever.
The early young dog days, Logan got to be with me a lot. Maybe too much, even. I slept beside him, on a cot, his first few weeks, getting up every two hours so he would pee in the backyard on grass instead of in his cage. He didn’t like being away from me. And it made him a little fixated on me. Or, a lot fixated on me. Probably should have raised him better, there.
The early young dog days, Logan got to be with me a lot. Maybe too much, even. I slept beside him, on a cot, his first few weeks, getting up every two hours so he would pee in the backyard on grass instead of in his cage. He didn’t like being away from me. And it made him a little fixated on me. Or, a lot fixated on me. Probably should have raised him better, there.
I got Logan when I worked at Amazon, shortly after I became a FTE there, in fact. The single best thing about working at Amazon is Seattle was their pet policy. You could bring your dog to work! And many, many co-workers did. So Logan came to work with me, nearly every day. And he got to be with me and get praise and attention and see other dogs. It was really great for him and for us.
He was a great car dog. He loved car rides and got very excited whenever I opened the door for him. He would hop up and behaved very well on drives. Even for that very, very last ride to the vet’s on the 9th of January, he tried SO hard to get up and into the car, even with his back legs not working. He was so strong and brave, trying to get up. With a maximum effort from me and him, he made it in...and promptly started chewing the heck out of the bone he kept in the car. The bone was a tough one and out lasted him, unlike most of his chew toys.
He was a great car dog. He loved car rides and got very excited whenever I opened the door for him. He would hop up and behaved very well on drives. Even for that very, very last ride to the vet’s on the 9th of January, he tried SO hard to get up and into the car, even with his back legs not working. He was so strong and brave, trying to get up. With a maximum effort from me and him, he made it in...and promptly started chewing the heck out of the bone he kept in the car. The bone was a tough one and out lasted him, unlike most of his chew toys.
After I changed jobs, because Amazon sucks, I wasn’t able to bring Logan to work anymore. But I was making good money at Microsoft, so I was able to afford a kennel for him. (There were some very bad days where I left him at home, in the yard, alone. He did not like that and I should not have done that. Lesson learned eventually) He was boarded most days at Paradise Pet Lodge in Woodinville, which was more or less on my way to work in Redmond. They loved him there and he seemed to love it too. That dog got more compliments and attention than any supermodel during Fleet Week. He was always eager to go with the kennel folks. They treated him well there, I think. But he rested a lot on concrete and that created some damage to his elbows. That was a big expense but I’m glad he got a few years there. Eventually, I lost the MSFT gig, due to Microsoft hiring very stupid managers who shut functioning projects down, and Logan became a home dog.
As it turns out, that worked out as well as it could. Logan never had accidents in the house, despite being left alone many hours and he was VERY happy to see me and to go for walks when I got home.
Walking your dog is sometimes an uncomfortable duty, but I’m utterly grateful for every Dog Patrol me and Logan went on. Even the rainy dog walks, which he didn’t mind even if I did, I’m glad I did. We got exercise and he got to see things besides me, my wife and the cats. Good for doggy morale. Two walks a day is a good standard and I wish I’d done more, honestly.
Walking your dog is sometimes an uncomfortable duty, but I’m utterly grateful for every Dog Patrol me and Logan went on. Even the rainy dog walks, which he didn’t mind even if I did, I’m glad I did. We got exercise and he got to see things besides me, my wife and the cats. Good for doggy morale. Two walks a day is a good standard and I wish I’d done more, honestly.
As he got older and bigger, he still got all the praise and attention from all who saw him. But he also got very scary. Some people were very afraid of Logan. And...I’m kinda ok with that. I never worried about my wife being home without me if Logan was there. He did NOT like people coming up to the house, and the only barking he did in the house was when some person knocked or rang the doorbell. Then Logan would give them hell. He scared off many, many door to door grifters….er...salesmen and solicitors. Mind you, holding back a 130lb rottweiler is NOT easy. I am a large mammal and I struggled to control him at times. Honestly, I controlled him more with my touch than with main strength. Good thing, he was strong as a bull and had four paw drive.
He avoided major health problems for much of his life. He was prone to developing fatty tumors. And when he was 6, he had a very large one removed from his abdomen. The thing was the size of child’s football! Sadly, the first vet botched the surgery and his incision festered and began to rot. He had to go back in to have more flesh removed. It wasn’t easy, the healing process was hard and he was laid up a while. I think this is when the loss of muscle mass in his back legs really began to accelerate.
He grew weaker and unsteady on his legs. He may have had undiagnosed neurological issues, it’s hard to be sure. Vet bills are expensive and I spent many, many thousands of dollars on Logan and usually without clear results. Not all vets are equal, we learned that. But he still loved his life, loved Dog Patrol, loved being with me. He was still having a pretty good time, overall, after he recovered from the operation finally.
We had a few more good years left. Fireplace days, summer walks, lots of belly rubs. Logan loved rolling on his back and making silly sounds. When he did that, I knew he was feeling all right. His last good belly rub was January 7th, Thursday before his final slip and fall.
He loved barking at dogs, but at random. Some dogs, he’d ignore, others always got barked at. You could never tell what he’d bark at or whom. But he was never aggressive. He was a herding dog, very territorial and protective of me, but never a bad dog. Never mean or savage. He was mostly patient with littler dogs, which were most dogs for Logan, but with bigger dogs, he’d be more assertive. But still, never biting or causing serious trouble.
He loved being petted by me. He’d lower his head to me submissively and beg for petting silently. Which touched me. He’d lean against me, in a doggy hug. His nub of a tail would wiggle like crazy when he saw me. But he didn’t like being petted by strangers. Mostly. Oddly, he would sometimes allow it and sometimes not. I could never quite figure him out, that dog of mine.
Logan definitely liked girls more than boys or men. He liked adults more than running, yelling children. Though on several, memorable occasions, he let little girls gently and slowly pet him. It was very sweet. If he didn’t like being touched, he’d snap at you. But he never was a biter. He was just shy of being handled. Though, partly it may have been my presence. According to many vets and groomers, when I wasn’t around, Logan was perfect. Obedient, gentle, eager to please. It was around me that he’d get muley.
Oh, he was stubborn. Rottweilers are a stubborn breed and Edwards are a stubborn family. He fit right in. Making him do anything was almost impossible. When Logan didn’t want to do something, he’d defy anyone to try and force him. But if you asked nicely and encouraged and led...often he’d come around. He was a good dog.
No, he was a great dog. A really great dog. And I’m going to miss him forever.
He avoided major health problems for much of his life. He was prone to developing fatty tumors. And when he was 6, he had a very large one removed from his abdomen. The thing was the size of child’s football! Sadly, the first vet botched the surgery and his incision festered and began to rot. He had to go back in to have more flesh removed. It wasn’t easy, the healing process was hard and he was laid up a while. I think this is when the loss of muscle mass in his back legs really began to accelerate.
He grew weaker and unsteady on his legs. He may have had undiagnosed neurological issues, it’s hard to be sure. Vet bills are expensive and I spent many, many thousands of dollars on Logan and usually without clear results. Not all vets are equal, we learned that. But he still loved his life, loved Dog Patrol, loved being with me. He was still having a pretty good time, overall, after he recovered from the operation finally.
We had a few more good years left. Fireplace days, summer walks, lots of belly rubs. Logan loved rolling on his back and making silly sounds. When he did that, I knew he was feeling all right. His last good belly rub was January 7th, Thursday before his final slip and fall.
He loved barking at dogs, but at random. Some dogs, he’d ignore, others always got barked at. You could never tell what he’d bark at or whom. But he was never aggressive. He was a herding dog, very territorial and protective of me, but never a bad dog. Never mean or savage. He was mostly patient with littler dogs, which were most dogs for Logan, but with bigger dogs, he’d be more assertive. But still, never biting or causing serious trouble.
He loved being petted by me. He’d lower his head to me submissively and beg for petting silently. Which touched me. He’d lean against me, in a doggy hug. His nub of a tail would wiggle like crazy when he saw me. But he didn’t like being petted by strangers. Mostly. Oddly, he would sometimes allow it and sometimes not. I could never quite figure him out, that dog of mine.
Logan definitely liked girls more than boys or men. He liked adults more than running, yelling children. Though on several, memorable occasions, he let little girls gently and slowly pet him. It was very sweet. If he didn’t like being touched, he’d snap at you. But he never was a biter. He was just shy of being handled. Though, partly it may have been my presence. According to many vets and groomers, when I wasn’t around, Logan was perfect. Obedient, gentle, eager to please. It was around me that he’d get muley.
Oh, he was stubborn. Rottweilers are a stubborn breed and Edwards are a stubborn family. He fit right in. Making him do anything was almost impossible. When Logan didn’t want to do something, he’d defy anyone to try and force him. But if you asked nicely and encouraged and led...often he’d come around. He was a good dog.
No, he was a great dog. A really great dog. And I’m going to miss him forever.
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