My Rhodesian Ridgeback Friend

I got to name the beautiful animal when he became a member of our family, which was awesome! As a family of three we each said a name that we liked. My brother wanted it to be Hunter. I liked the name as well; it's fierce enough for the powerful breed our dog was, as well as a fitting tribute to a favourite wrestler of ours - Triple H or Hunter Hearst Helmsley; a good rebrand for 'Jean' Paul Levesque. However I have digressed a little. My mum had a few suggestions that I can't now quite remember, but it boiled down to my brother's suggestion and my own. Mine was inspired from a book I had recently read. See, I enjoyed Darren Shan growing up; his vampire series (The Saga of Darren Shan) had thrilled me as a young boy, and as an adolescent his Demonata Saga had me enthralled with each time/location travelling instalment. One of the characters, from the Demonata Saga, had a Gaelic name that captured his warrior spirit. This character fought hard in the book he featured in, and he died a noble death akin to Boromir of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings… he stalled enemies and gave his life allowing the title character the time needed to evade hostiles & survive long enough to feature in future books. The name of this secondary hero was Ronan. My mum insisted she liked the name because of how it sounded, and stressed repeatedly to my brother, it had nothing to do with Ronan Keating. I was just thrilled that she chose my option! Ha, take that bro, she clearly loves me more!

One thing I hadn't foreseen was growing up with a dog that soon tested my physical strength as well as all the 6am walks around my local park! My word he was strong. I was 13 or 14 when we got Ronan and I was over six feet tall by the time I was 15, but he was his powerful self close to a year old and as fast as he was strong - maybe he is why I was a successful sportsman for a time! I loved his wonderful hair pattern and enjoyed running my hand against the hairs that gave his fine breed their 'ridgeback' name. Whether he was ginger, orange, strawberry blonde or whatever - he looked as handsome a dog as any. He was the last of his brothers & sisters to be bought. Me and my mum went to see him and he was delightfully dopey as a pup. He ran clumsily into our legs, fell over things in his way and I joked that he was last to be picked because he was a numpty. I'm so glad he was last to be picked and was able to become part of our family.

All the things that provoke a bark from pets would get the same response from Ronan - though nothing too disruptive for the neighbours. Especially not compared to the ill-disciplined Yorkshire Terriers who resided next door, however it's not their fault that their owners held different priorities. Anyhow, if there was any aggression around, which two boisterous young men had in spades, Ronan would stand beside our mum and await our conflict to end - what a lovely protective dog! Unfortunately, he wasn't so brave when my mum was alone as she would tell me and my brother that if something startled him, he'd be cowering instead of standing next to her defensively! This was while my brother, and then I, were at university…

Before I left home Ronan was my responsibility. I took him for walks, I'd help give his coat a brush, ensure his food & water bowl was full, and I'd also play on the floor with him for hours. I'd consider it an honour that he wanted to be snuggled up or wrestle with me and though I recognise it isn't standard practice… he's a dog and a large one at that, reminiscent of a wolf… I'd love him biting my arm and really testing my physical resilience - the bites, scratches and blood were for me to monitor, not for me to cry about as if it was a shock that this powerful animal could break flesh. He didn't 'bite' anyone other than myself, however his open mouth and enthusiastic jump led to a very funny experience with my dad – who was a stranger to Ronan for most of his life. When I introduced Ronan to my dad he must have been able to smell the familial bond as he jumped up to meet my dad, who was bending down towards Ronan and... he gouged a giant chunk out of my dad's face which took months to heal! He was a sport about it and did not mind one iota. It was hilarious despite the injury being rather gruesome.

I loved wrestling with the big dope, I loved running alongside him, and I cry remembering any time I stood on his paw by mistake or, God forbid, was actually a little mean to him whilst taking discipline too far. Thankfully I know I only stepped over that line once and I know he forgave me because he's not just man's best friend, he was mine! I forgave myself too and more than made it up to him! The yelps from when I've stood on his paws still makes me wince however - I wish I had never heard the sound. I've heard it too many times as I've racked up about 5 paws and I'm sure he was 3 of them. I try not to but I'm a big guy and dogs move around fast! The sound haunts me ok, leave me alone I've said I was sorry!

The one particular memory I wanted to share is the worst of any memory I have featuring Ronan. So, Ronan was a family pet that wrestled with me as a young teen, saw me grow beyond an adolescent and he passed once I was a young man. The memory is not only the last time I saw him, but it was also the last time he would sleep and wake up. I had returned to my family home after university on and off, however once I realised Ronan was unwell and could not be treated, I was there as much as possible. My mum informed me and my brother that the vets had made the dreaded recommendation no one ever wants to hear.

Naturally me and my brother did not accept the idea but as I could see him losing weight and neglecting meal after meal, day after day, the realisation set in. Good lord I'm crying my eyes out writing this. I miss him. I miss every pet we've had as a family. I miss Hobnob (my Gran’s cat companion), and I miss Molly/Olly (a family cat that we misgendered for an embarrassingly long time!) I miss Sam and Ben (I was very young when our family had those two gorgeous dogs, a big black Labrador and a Golden Retriever respectively), and I miss Charlie (another dog we had while I was younger, a chunky chocolate Labrador), however Ronan features entirely in my memory. No bit part in the mind of a young forming brain. He was my best friend for most of my formative years; he was there with me for so much, from young angsty heartache turmoil all the way to rugby championship winning celebrations.

The dreaded day was one last sleep away and I insisted to my mum that I wanted to be there when it happened. As an owner it was important that I held his paw for his last moments, and I'd walked him for years on a morning & night. I helped feed him, fill his water bowl and once I was working I paid towards him too! But mostly I just didn't want him to be alone, and though I know he wouldn't ever be that I still wanted him to know I was there. He did know that. It wasn't like I had planned though. He hadn't eaten in so long and he was looking as unwell as he was, so to find ourselves one last sleep before it was to happen, I stayed over at the family home and wouldn't leave his then permanently tired side.

We had gotten a McDonalds, though none of us felt particularly hungry and so even the great snack hole that I am had some of a Big Mac leftover. As I clambered into the old bed with Ronan trailing behind and climbing next to me, I offered him some of the burger and he gobbled it up. It made me burst into tears knowing that it wouldn't change anything. He might not sick it up like he'd been doing with any food he tried eating in the previous months, because it was such a little bit of beef, but ultimately it didn't alter how much pain he'd been in consistently and that there was nothing more any of us could do. He snuggled to the left of my legs, I stroked his head and thanked him for being an amazing family member. I cried whilst condemning myself for any time I could ever have called myself a bad pet owner and I sobbed relentlessly knowing what was going to happen in the morning. I wept some more. I hated that I'd gone to university and missed out on years of his company. That look in his eyes still breaks my heart. He was so ill so I know it was for the best. It still hurts though. The last memory with him for me was of stroking his head and looking from my pillow at Ronan having his penultimate sleep.

I was meant to be there with him. I woke up and it was bright, but Ronan wasn't there. My mum had tried to wake me but without much conviction. She didn't want me going through it, she knows I'm a sensitive chap. She opened the door and Ronan did what he normally would, he followed her downstairs, probably had a wee outside, before going with her to the car and off to the vets… I hurried out of bed & rushed downstairs knowing the time, and realising that I'd slept past the appointment, when I saw her, I just cried. We all did.

I loved Ronan so much and he is a huge part of why I will so casually confirm that dogs are better than cats (decide for yourself as such a thing is subjective). I know that it's a love of him and our other pets that partially motivated my brother to get his wonderful Mylo, who is his beloved pet to this very day… but this, this one is for you, my best friend, Ronan. Rest in peace, 2007-2017, gone but never forgotten.