A Leonbergers Last Car Ride

Three years ago today, our beloved Bronco passed away. We miss him very much. Below is a snippet from my book about his passing. Warning, it might be sad reading.

Photo of our Leonberger Bronco at the age of three months. He is wearing a red bandana.
Our Leonberger Bronco three months old

Bronco (our Leonberger) was very old for a Leonberger, and his health had been badly failing him for months, including his first heart failure, as well as other issues. It seemed like the time had come for him to be put to sleep. This is an extremely difficult decision for any dog owner.

Our Leonberger Bronco 12 ½ years old. He is lying in the grass looking into the camera.
Our Leonberger Bronco 12 ½ years old

In the wee hours of the morning on June 16, 2020, Bronco collapsed. He was no longer able to get up or hold himself up even if we lifted him. His legs were like spaghetti, and his breathing was heavy. We called our veterinarian as soon as the clinic opened. She spent quite a bit of time with us over the phone trying to figure out what was going on. The preliminary conclusion was that he most likely was experiencing another episode of heart failure.

We decided, all of us, together with our veterinarian that it was time. Our veterinarian knew Bronco extremely well: she really cared for him, and she was not afraid to tell us how she felt.

Rachel and I would take Bronco to the clinic, where he would be put to sleep. Claudia would stay at home with the other dogs.

Rachel, Claudia, and I lifted him into the car—all 142 pounds of him. It was the first time he could do nothing to help. But once he was inside the car, he was able to rest his head on the center console, between the armrests of the front seats, and sometimes he lifted his head so that he could see out.

He was exhausted but very curious about what he could see out the windows. We had some extra time before our appointment, so we took him for a car ride instead of driving straight to the clinic. He seemed to enjoy it: he was looking at things that seemed to interest him, but he did not make a sound, and he didn’t move much. After a while we turned around and started heading toward the clinic. We dreaded what was coming, but it was time.

Our veterinarian was waiting for us. The staff put Bronco on a stretcher and rolled him inside. Seeing my best friend lying on a stretcher being rolled into a clinic and knowing these were his last moments on earth was surreal. Our veterinarian checked him to verify what was going on. His blood pressure was extremely low, and his heart was not pumping normally. It was indeed heart failure. Rachel was FaceTiming Claudia so she could talk to Bronco. We did everything we could to comfort him.

Our veterinarian and her assistant had taken care of Bronco for around ten years, and we had visited them quite often toward the end of his life. They both knew him really well, and they truly cared for him. The veterinarian had told us that Bronco was the oldest big dog she’d ever treated, and they both said that he had become like family to them; he wasn’t just another patient. The situation was upsetting for them, too. Putting him to sleep was not an easy thing for any of us, but it was the right thing to do.

We all petted him, and Rachel and Claudia spoke to him to comfort him. I was not able to say much—it was just too difficult—but I made sure Bronco heard my voice a few times and that he could see me. The room was somber but peaceful and filled with love. First he got a shot that put him to sleep, and then after he was completely asleep, the veterinarian gave him a drug that stopped his heart. It stopped beating less than fifteen seconds after the injection. Bronco had passed across the Rainbow Bridge. The room was quiet, but human hearts were not.

Paw print in the clouds. Illustration by Naomi Rosenblatt.

Bronco was cremated, and we picked up the box containing his remains and his paw print the next day. The veterinarian and her assistant also wrote us a beautiful card that will forever stay with us.

Illustration by Naomi Rosenblatt showing our Leonberger Bronco in the middle with our mini-Australian Shepherd Rollo on his left and our Pug Daisy on the right. Rollo is saying "they still talk about you". Bronco is saying "I know".

Bronco had a long life and a big heart. He was loving, caring, protective, and brave. So it’s almost fitting that heart disease ultimately caused his death. This calls to mind the legend of Sven Dufva, the fictional Finnish hero who was shot in the heart in the Finnish War of 1808–1809. In the epic poem The Tales of Ensign Stål, Dufva’s commanding general stands over his body and proclaims:

That bullet knew what course to take, it must acknowledged be. . . .

It knew far more than we.

It let his brow be spared in peace, the weaker, poorer part,

And chose the portion that was best—his noble, valiant heart.

A photo of a rainbow by the coast Costa Rica. The white text says "Deat leaves a heartache no one can heal, But love leaves a memory no one can steal."

The rainbow bridge

According to an article in the Washington Post,* the Rainbow Bridge is “a mythical overpass said to connect heaven and earth—and, more to the point, a spot where grieving pet owners reunite for good with their departed furry friends.” It’s also a poem of unknown origin that spawned a pet-bereavement movement and even a worldwide Pet Remembrance Day, August 28. The poem in its entirety follows.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water, and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they each miss someone very special to them who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.

This is a photo of Bronco's obituary as it appeared in the September 2021 issue of the LeoLetter, the official publication of the Leonberger Club of America. Text below: Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle Breeders: Julie & Thorsten Schaffert July 3, 2007 to June 16, 2020 Loved by Claudia, Thomas, Jacob, David, Rachel Wikman Dallas, Texas Our beloved Bronco passed away peacefully last summer two weeks short of thirteen years old. It was sudden but not unexpected. He was old, his heart was failing, and he had other health issues as well, and then when his second heart failure happened on June 16, we all knew it was time. We were with him all the way to the end and we said goodbye. He knew, but he was at peace. It was a heart-rending experience for all of us including the veterinary and her assistant. Bronco had become family to them as well. Our veterinarian said he was the biggest oldest dog she had ever treated. When he came into our lives as a happy, rambunctious and confident puppy he instantly stole our hearts. He became the mascot for our daughter’s soccer team, and he went to every game. In half time the girls lined up to pet him, including the opposing team. He was the main attraction. Each girl got one minute to pet him. He wasn’t scared. He loved every minute of it. He grew big quickly and his size and strength amazed us and everyone in the neighborhood. He loved greeting people and dogs and wanted to say hello to everyone we met on walks. He was not just the greeter in chief at our house but at the dog park as well. He also loved swimming and chasing ducks in White Rock Lake. Bronco amazed us with his intelligence and abilities so many times. When our hamsters escaped from their cage my wife tried to enlist Bronco in helping us find them. He understood and he sniffed them out and he found them. This happened twice. We had a Labrador with diabetes called Baylor. One day Bronco alerted us to the fact that something was going on with Baylor. Soon thereafter Baylor had an insulin shock. No one had taught Bronco to detect this, he just did, and it probably helped us get Baylor to the emergency sooner. On another occasion Bronco saved our Pug Daisy from an attacking loose German Shepherd. He also chased off a trespasser, but Bronco probably just wanted to greet him and lick him, but the intruder didn’t know that. We will never forget Bronco’s loving and trusting eyes, his lust for life, his Leonberger hugs when he leaned into us. He was very social and his love for people and other dogs and especially small dogs was remarkable. He had an enormous patience for rambunctious small dogs, and he took it upon himself to protect them. At the age of twelve and a half he got the “grey muzzle award”, which was a fun experience for all of us. We think of Bronco every day and we miss him dearly. He will forever be in our hearts.
Bronco’s obituary appeared in the September 2021 issue of the LeoLetter, the official publication of the Leonberger Club of America.

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Author: thomasstigwikman

My name is Thomas Wikman. I am a software/robotics engineer with a background in physics. I am currently retired. I took early retirement. I am a dog lover, and especially a Leonberger lover, a home brewer, craft beer enthusiast, I’m learning French, and I am an avid reader. I live in Dallas, Texas, but I am originally from Sweden. I am married to Claudia, and we have three children. I have two blogs. The first feature the crazy adventures of our Leonberger Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle as well as information on Leonbergers. The second blog, superfactful, feature information and facts I think are very interesting. With this blog I would like to create a list of facts that are accepted as true among the experts of the field and yet disputed amongst the public or highly surprising. These facts are special and in lieu of a better word I call them super-facts.

56 thoughts on “A Leonbergers Last Car Ride”

  8. That last day is so tough … I remember when we took Dennis in, and his favorite vet (she was his acupuncturist) came back to the practice just for him to do one last round of acupuncture to relax him while he ate baked butter chicken and he never even saw or felt the injection. 😢

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  9. Jag var med om det många gånger och vet precis hur det känns.
    Regnbågsbron har jag på engelska, svenska och tyska. Så fort jag läser om någon som sörjer sitt djur skickar jag det. Det är hjärtskärande men också tröstande. Ha en trevlig helg!

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  12. This was the hardest chapter for me to read in the book; I, too, had to put two pets (my cat Natasha, and my yellow Lab Mary Joe) to sleep, so I know how difficult this was for you and your family. It’s painful to revisit these episodes in our lives, but at least we know we acted out of love for our furry family members.

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    1. Yes you are right, it is very painful, which is why I put these kind of stories in a gray background. It’s not for everybody to read, and it was difficult to write. However, when you get a pet, one day you’ll be there and you’ve got to do the right thing. I am so sorry about Natasha and Mary Joe. Thank you very much for your insightful comment.

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  14. Happy now! You made me cry. Knowing I’m to weak, my first two boys moved to the base of the bridge without my help. My Ace is a liar like his human and says he is not going to go.

    We danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
    Throughout the south
    We spoke in tears of fifteen years
    How his dog and him
    They travelled about
    His dog up and died
    He up and died
    After twenty years he still grieves

    May we always dance on my friend.

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  17. Tears spilled as I read this Thomas… Those last car rides I have done far too many times… Each one unique like those four legged ones who give us so much unconditional love..
    This was a beautiful tribute… Sending love your way ❤

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  21. This is so sad, Thomas, and made me think of the day we had to say goodbye to our beloved Dalmatian. She was 15.5 years old and we still mourn, even though it happened in 2007. I can understand how painful it must have been for you and your family to let go of your beloved Bronco. 😢 May our happy memories sustain us all! 💖

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  22. Pingback: Robbie’s Inspiration – Book review: The Life and Times of Le Bronco von der Löwenhöhle: Stories and Tips from Thirteen Years with a Leonberger – Robbie's inspiration

  23. What a tender tribute for a gentle giant, Thomas. Having just lost my Norman nearly 3 weeks ago, I know all too well the heartache writing this kind of post. Know I’m sending gentle thoughts of comfort as you remember your sweet boy. May love and peace preside over you and yours until you once again reunited with Bronco. While he may be gone, he certainly will never be forgotten. ❤️‍🩹

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    1. Thank you so much for your very kind and beautiful words. I am so sorry about Norman. I am sending you my thoughts of comfort as well. I will remember Norman as well and I hope that love and peace will be with you. May Norman rest in peace. 💖💖💖

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