Roscoe: A Stoic Journey Through Wilderness and Time
Roscoe was never just a companion. He was a traveler and an explorer. A consummate professional adventurer. Steady, observant, and quietly present in every chapter of my life. He moved through the world with calm resolve and remarkable capability. He understood that the journey was earned one mile at a time. His story begins with a second chance.
Roscoe had been scheduled for euthanasia at a shelter in Northern California. Through the Oregon Humane Society’s Second Chance Program he was transferred north to Portland. Because Oregon Humane Society maintains a high adoption rate, dogs like Roscoe are given the opportunity to begin again.
From there our journey unfolded across landscapes and across thousands of miles.
Together we hiked through Oregon, Washington, California, Illinois, and Idaho, crossing forests, rugged coastlines, deserts, peaks, and alpine foothills. Roscoe was an explosive and powerful hiker who climbed mountains with ease. High elevation trails, thinning air, snow lined paths, and exposed ridgelines never slowed him. He became legendary for packing and carrying his own gear and supplies, shouldering the work of the trail while honoring Leave No Trace principles.
In the Pacific Northwest we learned the language of rain and patience. From the time we adopted Roscoe at one year old through his fourteenth year, this landscape shaped his formative years and our life together. We walked beneath towering evergreens in our home of Portland, Oregon, taking daily rainy walks through Southeast Portland’s neighborhoods and exploring quiet streets, well kept gardens, and native roses in bloom. Later our days shifted when we moved into the concrete and glass of Northwest Portland’s Pearl District, where Roscoe adapted just as steadily to the urban rhythm. He navigated sidewalks and city blocks with the same calm confidence he carried on forest trails. From the wind sculpted Oregon Coast to the cliffs and waterfalls of the Columbia River Gorge, the terrain shaped our days as much as the miles did. Mount Hood stood in the distance, its snow capped peak constant and unbothered by time, watching over hikes through alpine meadows and rugged mountain terrain. Those places taught resilience. They taught us to keep going when conditions were cold, wet, or uncertain. Every summit reached was not celebrated loudly. It was simply understood.
As life carried us east Roscoe adapted without hesitation. In Illinois the wilderness took on a different shape, forests giving way to steel and glass and the quiet of mountains replaced by the steady rhythm of the city. Beneath Chicago’s skyline Roscoe moved with the same composure and confidence he had always known. Along the shores of Lake Michigan the wind still carried a familiar sense of openness even without peaks or pines. During this chapter our world grew with the addition of family, and Roscoe came to know his cousins Twister, Charlie, and Teddy while forming bonds that added warmth to our days. It was also here he met his little brother Vader, a black mini poodle with endless chaotic energy. It took Roscoe time to warm up, but in time he showed Vader the ropes and passed on how to move through the world and how to adventure properly. The terrain had changed but Roscoe had not. His stride remained sure, his purpose steady, and his presence grounding.
Life eventually brought us west again into the warmth and light of Southern California. Here Roscoe retired in the sun and settled into a gentler rhythm. Not surrender, but rest earned through years of work and vertical elevation gain. The dry hills, open skies, and constant light stood in contrast to the rain soaked forests and moss covered trails that shaped his earlier years. The mountains were different and the air softer, but the spirit of the trail remained. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of a dog who had climbed high, carried his load, and proven himself across every landscape.
Weeks before he left us and sensing the end, we took our final adventure, returning to the place that had been home for so many years. We left Southern California and followed the coast north, passing familiar SoCal beaches. Pacific Coast Highway weaving between beach communities and ocean views before merging onto Highway 101 as the landscape gradually changed mile by mile. We rolled through Monterey and along the rugged cliffs of Big Sur, a beauty we had never witnessed before — an astounding stretch of coastline where mountains drop straight into the Pacific. It felt special knowing Roscoe was able to experience scenery like that in his lifetime. Farther north the air cooled and the coastline softened as we entered the towering coastal redwoods, where Roscoe took his final hike beneath ancient sentinels. The stop felt especially symbolic since we had hiked these woods many times over the years — and as tradition we managed to get politely busted by park rangers once again for no dog tresspassing. From there we crossed into Oregon and continued along the coast, breathing in the crisp Pacific air one last time. On that journey Roscoe passed down the high art of adventuring, guiding Vader one final time. The long miles, the forest, and the stillness of the road gave us space to heal and make peace with the inevitability of his passing.
There is something profoundly beautiful in knowing Roscoe was laid to rest in California, the same place where his life was nearly ended. Roscoe was laid to rest on July 27, 2025, closing a journey that began with mercy and carried him across mountains, cities, forests, and wilderness. He lived a remarkable sixteen years filled with movement and purpose.
He was an adventurer at heart, a working dog in the truest sense, and a guardian of every trail we walked. He always scouted the path ahead, quietly letting me know we were safe. Roscoe’s journey may no longer continue beside me, but it does not end here. It lives on in the places we traveled, the mountains he climbed, the gear he carried, the roads we followed, and the steady presence that shaped my days.
We say goodbye not only with grief but with gratitude. For a second chance taken, for thousands of miles and countless adventures, and for sixteen years lived fully and faithfully.
