Roxy wasn’t supposed to be my dog. She was for my wife and kids.
In fact, I was told to keep my distance.
Roxy joined the family while I was on a business trip to Orlando in 2006. She was a bundle of Golden Retriever energy from day one.
She loved her new family and kept my wife and kids on their toes. She especially loved Buster, but he wanted no part of her.
Buster was seven years old and ready for a quieter life. Roxy was anything but quiet—always in motion, always in his space.
As she grew, that energy became harder on his arthritic joints. Most of their interactions ended with Buster growling, telling her to stay away.
Roxy loved life. Every day—actually, every trip outside—started with a celebratory roll. In the spring and summer, she rolled in the grass. In the fall, she rolled in the leaves. And in the winter, she rolled in the snow.
Over time, my family realized Roxy was different than Buster and they stopped worrying about our bond. I started including Roxy in my adventures.
She loved the outdoors but, oddly for a Golden Retriever, she was slow to take to water. On walks through the woods, Buster would plow into the Gunpowder River as soon as he saw it. Roxy stood at the edge, refusing to go in no matter how much we coaxed her.
Then, one day in her third year, something changed. I threw a ball into Deer Creek and she went charging in after it.
She didn’t just swim—she glided.
Buster chugged through the water like a steam engine. Roxy moved effortlessly. From that day on, whether in the woods or at the neighbor’s pool, Roxy was a water dog.
Roxy pursued everything she did with enthusiasm. Whether it was leading the family on a merry chase after escaping the yard, dragging them behind her on a walk, or gobbling up food—her favorite thing to do.
Roxy was caring. Buster died when she was three years old and I desperately wanted another German Shepherd. Blitz joined our family not long after and Roxy immediately took him under her wing. The two were inseparable for the next 12 years.
As happy-go-lucky and carefree as Roxy seemed, she also commanded respect. Blitz grew into a powerful protector—an alpha male in every sense of the word. He was kind, confident, and deferred to no one—except her. She was the only one who could get away with bossing Blitz around.
And at every meal, Blitz would devour his food, leaving three or four pieces in his dish. Roxy then came over and finished it.
Every time.
Roxy was unbothered.
When she was four, she ruptured a ligament in her back leg. The surgery was difficult and the recovery was long. I wasn’t sure how I was going to keep a dog like her still.
But she handled it without complaint. She never seemed to mind her limitations—just did what she could each day until she was herself again.
Roxy never waited for adventure. From the time she was young, she would go off on her own and explore whenever she was allowed.
She never outgrew that.
When Roxy was 14, my brother invited us to Lakewood Forest Preserve. The preserve has a 66-acre off-leash dog area with miles of trails through woods and prairie. The dogs loved it.
We were walking along the trail when Dakota and Kitty, my brother’s Great Dane, started roughhousing. We were all entertained by their antics. I was snapping pictures.
Roxy was not amused. When we were ready to move on, she was nowhere to be seen.
Normally, that’s not a problem. My dogs were well trained and would come when I called them. But as Roxy got older, her hearing started to fail. So if she got too far away, she couldn’t hear me.
I headed back the way we came to look for Roxy. My niece ran in the other direction. Madeleine found Roxy about half a mile up the trail happily continuing her walk with a group of strangers she had adopted. She got tired of waiting for us.
That was Roxy, always a free spirit—living life as the spirit moved her.
Twelve years after Roxy came into my life, I found myself in Orlando again. In 2006, she was supposed to be my wife and kids’ dog.
This time, I returned to a different house. The kids had gone off to college. My wife had just gone. But there was Roxy—happy to see me and ready to live out our golden years together.
Roxy was with me longer than any dog I’ve had—16 years in all. She was the thread that connected every member of the pack through its generations.
She was the pesky little sister to Buster. The frisky big sister to Blitz and Kal-El. The patient and nurturing mother to Dakota. The wise grandmother to Nala, Floki and Maximus.
To me, she was the adventure that was never supposed to happen—the journey that was supposed to go in one direction and ended up somewhere unexpected.
She was joy.
And somehow, she became my heart.
Roxy’s story is one of those that matter—the lessons from The Great Dog Pack that reflect what the Alex Lebovic Foundation carries forward.
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From Lakewood Forest Preserve
Here’s some video footage my brother took during our trip to Lakewood Forest Preserve. You might recognize pack members Dakota, Roxy, Blitz and Higbee. The harlequin Great Dane is their cousin, Kitty.
I absolutely loved your stories about Roxy, especially the one you wrote about her waiting for dog biscuits from the neighbor during the blizzard it was quite entertaining. I have a special love for Golden!
Another nice story. All the digs look like they were having a fun time.
Love the stories