How do you say goodbye to a friend who's been with you through your most formative years? As I sit here, surrounded by the golden hues of a Colorado sunset, I find myself grappling with this impossible task. Reno, my four-legged companion of 14 years, was more than just a dog – he was a fellow adventurer, a protector, a source of endless mischief and unconditional love. From the towering 14ers we conquered together to the quiet nights spent under star-studded skies, Reno has been my constant through a journey of self-discovery and growth. Now, as I face the vastness of the mountains without him by my side, I'm left to reflect on the profound impact one spirited "problem" dog can have on a human's life.
This has been so hard to write, it's taken me a few days to be able to try and get these words out.
Reno first came into my life more than 14 years ago. While his age can be debated, when we first met at Dumb Friends League, I was told that he was "3 years" old and that he was a "problem" dog. His problems were merely a sense of adventure and wanting to escape the 6' interior confines of his doggy cell and escape to the mountains as badly as I wanted someone to explore the new to me mountains of Colorado. As a recent NJ farm boy and snowbum transplant, and Reno being a recent "feral" running wild transplant from Kansas, we made fast friends, knowing that a shared love of being outdoor creatures bonded us together. That first summer was spent, me learning a lot of patience, and Reno pulling me up and down the hills of 14ers, defiant of both commands and wanting to sit still in an apartment. We eventually got there, usually, 3 miles into each hike, spending hours and days in the backcountry together, realizing that we both needed each other.
His favorite games were, "Let's see how fast you are.", "I bet I can run further than you" and "What Fence?" He once tried a short-lived game of, "Who can jump out a higher window" - 2 stories was the answer and his record remains unchallenged to this day.
Reno met and instantly fell in love with his hoo-man mom, Kari about 5 years ago. Her shadow eventually changed from always having 2 legs, to now 6 legs wherever she went. As I would have to leave on film and photo assignments, I knew that Reno would protect her from anything that went bump in the night, and anything would ever get through him.
On his last night, he enjoyed a rare treat, a full In and Out Burger, and sat listening to Tyler Childers, "Can I Take My Hounds to Heaven" basically on repeat as K and I, drank some wine as the daylight turned from daylight, to golden, to blue, and then into the dark grayish purple tones under midnight. We tried our damnedest to make time slow down, knowing his time was coming soon and just wanted to enjoy every last memory of our fur family of 4 for now. We sat, exchanging memories and stories as Reno just sat peacefully on the lawn in the cooling summer nights transitioning into fall.
Reno passed gently and quietly without any pain on 09/05/2024 around 4 pm in the afternoon surrounded by everyone who loved him greatly in life; his doggy grandparents, his hoo-man mom and I all holding him and wishing him off, jumping over fences into the big mountains and prairies on the other side.
Reno is survived by his sister, Ryley-Ann-SugarLoaf-Buttercup-Kolicko our hound-life, pit-plot, his cousin Norah, and about a dozen bunnies he used to stare at for hours, probably thinking of what it would be like to chase them being feral again in the plains of Kansas.
