Panzer Scharlau

2011 - 2025

Panzer

Panzer-Pants. Inspector Panzer. Panger. Panzer-Handz. Handzer. Prancer (my mom could barely get his name right), Buddy, Lil Buddy, Rope Champ, Rope King, Our Little Shadow, the Pitiful Pittie... Just a few of his many nicknames.

I remember like it was just yesterday. It was the week of Jan 11th, 2013 - a little less than a month after I lost Ronan to cancer, and just 2-3 weeks after I met Sara. I was still a little depressed from Ronan's death when Chrystal reached out to me and said (and I may be slightly paraphrasing) "You should come look at this pup and adopt him. His name is Teddy". She sent the picture you see below of him by the Christmas tree. I told her that I couldn't because I was "not ready yet", and I really felt deep down that I wasn't. Anyways, she kept telling my that I should just go and look at him, and I eventually agreed to go. At this point, Sara and I weren't even a "thing" yet, but I reached out to her (knowing she was a crazy dog person like me) and asked her "Sooooo... you wanna go check out this dog with me?", and to my slight shock and without hesitation, she said "YES!". So, we go. We get there, and see this year/year and a half old adorable pup named Teddy. Ok. I'll take him for a little walk down the street and see what he's like. He had ZERO walking manners. Like, he'd want to be a few feet ahead of you and just pull you around. I looked over to Sara and said "you know, if I adopt this guy, I'm going to name him Panzer, with the way he pulls me around like a little tank". It ended up being a short walk because my shoulder started to hurt from him pulling so hard. So, we get back and told the nice lady taking care of him that I'd think about it. I'm pretty sure my mind was made up before I left her house, but I still wanted to wait a bit. Murphy (my older Rottie) was still alive and well, but was alone all day. I felt really bad about that, and that was what pushed me over to adopt him. A little later that night, I believe, I asked them to bring him over the next day to see if he was going to get along with Murph. They got along just fine, and left him there with me. Great, the 2 dog balance was restored, and as you'll see, "my dog" quickly became "our dog".
Now, I can't remember if I took Panzer to Sara's house, or if she brought her dog (a big Great Dane named Wilfred) over to mine, but a wonderful friendship was about to bloom. You see, Panzer and Wilfred became THEE bestest of friends. INSEPERABLE even. I have never (or probably ever will again) seen 2 dogs be the way together that they were. Anytime one would visit the other, it would just be these 30 minute tornadoes, followed by a nap next to each other, then again with the chasing each other around and nap. Wash, rinse, repeat. One of my favorite memories of those two was at our old place. Poor Wilfred would be at the back of the yard minding his own business, looking away. Panzer, at the opposite end of the yard, would slowly move toward him, stalking Wilfred, and then just blast off at top speed and SLAM full force into Wilfred and knock him on his ass - I think I have the video of it somehwere. That happened quite a bit. The amount of abuse that poor Great Dane took, I swear... As you can imagine, that made it easier for Sara and I to get closer to each other (not that we really needed the help) and gave us plenty of excuses to hang out at either of our houses, or the dog park, or for walks together in our neighborhoods...

Fast forward to 2014, about April. Murphy passes due to a ruptured mass on her spleen. About a month or so after that, tragedy struck again and Panzer lost his best friend, Wilfred, to bloat. I think a little bit of Panzer died that day, too. He was never quite the same ever again, sadly. He just never took to other pups the way he did with Fred. He was fine and normal with River, but it was no where near the amount of fun that he had before.

The one thing that didn't change was his love for ropes. That boy LOVED playing rope. As many of you know (and have experienced) Panzer didn't like to give up his rope. Sure, he'd bring it to you and let you have the privilege of looking at him with it, but if you grabbed that rope, you'd better have an iron grip. I can't tell you how many times over the years that he threw out my shoulders from playing tug, but goddamn was that dog happy doing it! Til the day he died, he was undefeated. The Rope Champ retains his title for eternity. I think the only think he loved more than rope was the smoked bones we used to get him from Bunzles Meat Market. That poor dog broke his canines chewing on those (HOT TIP - stay away from any cooked bones. Give them raw bones. Cooked in any form will hurt their teeth). Granted, it never stopped him from eating and scraping on the raw ones. It did hurt his ability to defend himself, though. For some reason, some male dogs didn't like how handsome he was and just attacked him on sight. I dunno what it was, but that poor dog had more holes put into him than a bait dog. That still never stopped him from being nice to new dogs he met.

About 4 years or so ago, Panzer had a 3rd surgery on his side to remove a cancerous mast cell tumor that kept coming back. This time, they had to make a very long cut from his belly, up his side, and to his back leg to have enough skin to close the wound. While they finally got all of the cancer, he unfortunately developed necrosis in the center of his big wound. I will spare you the horrifying details of how it looked - but what started as a small hole of dead skin became almost a fist sized hole in 2-3 days. You could see into him. After getting the "wait and see" from the emergency vet (again), we insisted that they take him and treat him. We were a wreck over how much pain he was in for such a stoic pup. I/we seriously thought we were going to lose him. They eventually stabilized him and got him all fixed up. Whats $20,000, right? (we often joked on how he was the "most expensive free pup"). From then on, it wasn't uncommon to hear either of us for the next however many years thanking him for "giving us another day". We would often tell each other that since that day, that every day has been a gift. We were right.

Over the years, as one would expect, Panzer got old. He slowed down a bit. He didn't rocket up the stairs at the sound of the fridge opening. He started having seizures and his thyroid was messed up (he was medicated for both issues). Most of his hearing started to go. It was hard to put or even keep weight on him. His joints became clicky. His muscles began to atrophy. He was an old man, but his eyes always said otherwise - especially if there was food around.

Sunday morning, around 415 AM, I went and got Panzer and let the pups out to pee before I served them breakfast. Everything seemed fine - he peed, came back in, and I went down stairs to grab my water bottle. When I came back up, he wasn't the same. His face was on the floor and his back end was up, and slowly dropping down. He wouldn't get up, even with the magic words "it's food time". I was concerned enough to wake up Sara. She picked him up and sat on the couch with him on her lap. He didn't seem to want to move - he just made these grunting noises. Around 530 AM, we arrive at the emergency vet and they get him on the gurney and take him back (he still wasn't walking). Within minutes, they take us to a room and the vet comes in and tells us his situation- he, like Murphy, had a mass burst on his spleen, and his abdomen was filling with blood. Before she could finish, I was already crying. I knew what was coming. There was no way he'd be able to go through an invasive surgery that had a 1/3 chance of survival AND the necessary aggressive chemo treatment after. He deserved to pass at home, but the vet said there was no time for that as his pain was going to get worse, and who knows when a mobile vet could make it to our home. We told the vet we understood the situation, and they brought him in, with the port on his leg ready to send him to a permanent sleep. He was barely responsive. The vet left the room so we could spend a few minutes with him before he had to go. I lost it. I cried and babbled about how I was so sorry this was happening, the way it was happening, and that I love him so much. I thanked him for helping bring Sara and I together and for everything. I was so sad. I was so angry. I always asked whatever was listening for Panzer to just pass in his sleep when his time was up. He was a perfect pup and deserved at least that. I guess no one was listening.

When we were "ready", the vet came in and gave Panzer the stuff to make him sleep, and then the stuff that would send him off. I didn't stop crying the entire time. I missed him terribly even before the light in his eyes went out.

By 6AM, at about 14 years old, Panzer was gone.

Then we went home.

Without him.

Panzer was with us though every major event in our lives. Almost 13 years of us meeting, getting engaged, getting married, moving out to a rural area, the friends we have met and lost, and countless other things. 9 years was the longest I've had any of my pups live until him. I'm so incredibly sad that he had to go, but I am equally happy that he gave us so much for so long. How lucky we are that we got to be the ones to get all that time with him. How lucky we were to be able to be with him at the end. What do you say to that? You say thanks Panzer, you really were the best boy, and in no way did I deserve you.

About a year or so ago, my dad said "I'd almost rather put down one of my kids instead of my dog". I probably should have been offended, but I understood him. It's such a different kind of bond.

Those of you that were here through the loss of all my pups know that I find that typing a little something about them when they pass is cathartic and way for me to deal with grief. It's also my small way to share them with the world. I could literally write a book about Panzer. My apologies if this one was a little disjointed or rambly. So, if you've made it this far, thank you. I also want to thank every one of you that was kind to him, baked him treats (mom), puppy sat, liked his photos, and let him come hang out at your house. Really though, the priveledge was all of ours, as we got to live in this universe the same time he was alive.

The saying goes "don't cry because I'm gone - smile because it happened". I'm still trying, little buddy.

I'm still trying.