Registered Name: Vanguard's Breaking Tradition
Call Name: Riot
Date of Birth: February 3, 2015
AKC#: SR86136902
FDSB: 166307
DNA: V752515
Dam: FC AFC Shiloh's Rock My World JH
Sire: NCH 2xNACH 2xRU/NACH 2xCH Boot Scootin Boogie
Breeder: Matt and Ruth Rogers, Vanguard Vizslas
Pedigree
FT Placements
Call Name: Riot
Date of Birth: February 3, 2015
AKC#: SR86136902
FDSB: 166307
DNA: V752515
Dam: FC AFC Shiloh's Rock My World JH
Sire: NCH 2xNACH 2xRU/NACH 2xCH Boot Scootin Boogie
Breeder: Matt and Ruth Rogers, Vanguard Vizslas
Pedigree
FT Placements
Then came Riot. Riot came into my life when it was going through several major changes. He was the puppy that was meant to put life back on track, put a smile on my face, and and remind me to stop worrying, slow down, and enjoy the simple innocence of a rambunctious puppy figuring out the world. He met that tall order and lived up to his name quickly! He is an expert snuggler, an amazing little bird dog, and the silliest boy I have yet to meet. Riot will do anything and everything for me; he lives to please. From running and pointing birds, to retrieving a downed bird, to doing drills in the yard, Riot does everything with a smile on his face and usually an enthusiastic puppy-talk exclamation of how much he enjoys himself. He talks, he bounces, he jumps baby gates, he climbs trees, he points birds, he runs, and he LOVES life to the fullest. Riot has filled a piece of our household that had gone missing, and he continues to outgrow that spot and fill it with his endearing personality.
Riot showed promise from the day he came home. Still developing his nose, he has never ceased to amaze me with his ability to find and point game. He has a quick, snappy, flawless, and seemingly effortless gait that easily draws the eye while running. He is built to work, cover ground and hunt all day, and he does it with an eagerness unexpected from a pup so young. He has shown off that desire in his first few field trials, earning his first placements this fall season. Like Sitka, Riot is also a retrieving fool. He has had his first birds shot over him and has retrieved each with impeccable manners. This year's first hunting season will be a fun one with this baby bird dog!
Riot showed promise from the day he came home. Still developing his nose, he has never ceased to amaze me with his ability to find and point game. He has a quick, snappy, flawless, and seemingly effortless gait that easily draws the eye while running. He is built to work, cover ground and hunt all day, and he does it with an eagerness unexpected from a pup so young. He has shown off that desire in his first few field trials, earning his first placements this fall season. Like Sitka, Riot is also a retrieving fool. He has had his first birds shot over him and has retrieved each with impeccable manners. This year's first hunting season will be a fun one with this baby bird dog!
I lost a piece of my heart the night of August 8th, 2016. My babyDog threw himself to the wind and didn’t look back, tearing off to his next adventure… but this time leaving me behind. My heart still hurts.
Riot came into my life when it was going through several major changes. In jumped Riot. He was the puppy that was meant to put life back on track, put a smile on my face, and remind me to stop worrying, slow down, and enjoy the simple innocence of a rambunctious puppy figuring out the world. He met that tall order and lived up to his name quickly. I asked for it in naming him Riot, but a dog was never named so perfectly. Riot instantly filled a piece of our household that had gone missing, and he outgrew that spot, overflowing it with his endearing personality. There wasn’t a day that passed that Riot didn’t put a smile on my face and make me laugh. He had moments that made me want to give him a flying lesson off the balcony into the pool, but in the next instant he’d be smiling, calculating his next move, and making me forgive him within seconds. Oh my sweet, sweet boy.
As Riot grew up, I often joked that he had two brain cells. His first and most dominating brain cell has always been “HI, I’M RIOT!” Whenever he saw a new person, he had to meet them – and he met them with a smile, a full body wag, and usually some puppy talk exclamation of just how much he loved them already. He was my Walmart greeter. He’d try to go home with someone new each time we went on a hike or to the local off leash areas. Well, he would until he realized I wasn’t there, and then he’d come racing back to find me, panicked he’d lost me. Once at Cherry Creek he chased a tweety bird a few hundred yards off and lost track of me. He then proceeded to do sprinting laps up and down the last stretch of path we’d been on, barking, running up to everyone and taking off again, making a scene while looking for me. He ran past me four times in his absolute need to find me. When he finally caught sight of Sitka and followed Sitka to me, he sprinted over, buried his head in my knees and wouldn’t let me move for a full five minutes. His trainer would lament that the dog with the perfect, beautiful, efficient, breath taking gait and all that drive would never be a shooting dog or all age prospect because he just couldn’t stand not being able to see his Mom. He was probably right. And I adored my babyDog for it.
Riot’s second brain cell was “Life is wonderful”. The boy met each and every moment of his life with unbridled enthusiasm. That enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him learn something new, streak off to the front in search of game, point birds, retrieve a tennis ball, climb a tree, or jump some obstacle in his path. He always smiled. Always. Even when he got in trouble, he had a smile on his face. He knew no limits and accepted no boundaries – the world was his to conquer with his pure love of life. He once escaped out of his crate and shredded an 800-page novel. He met me at the door with a shit-eating grin on his face, the biggest chunk of the book in his mouth, and ran into the bedroom where the explosion had occurred to roll in his masterpiece and show me what he’d created. And I could only laugh. He was a dog obsessed with all small animals – birds, rabbits, squirrels, marmots, you name it. He once herded a group of marmot together just so he could bowl through them barking and leaping for joy when they scattered. He once watched a chukar flush straight up in the air and tore off chasing for all he was worth barking his head off… in the wrong direction (literally, the bird flew left and he ran off right). He came back so proud of himself. He had a jackrabbit and ground squirrel mania in the desert. Manic to the point of going THROUGH cholla cactus to “flush” and chase them, just to come back covered head to foot in the gnarly things. But as always, with a smile on his face and a mischievously guilty “sorry Mom” look in his eyes. He threw toys at the people he wanted to throw them for him. He jumped baby gates or fences when you tried to confine him. He barked when you weren’t paying attention to him. He terrorized squirrels by climbing up the trees they thought they were safe in. And at the end of the day, he’d snuggle in close, wrap his head around my left shoulder, tell me goodnight in his big groaning sigh, and fall asleep.
Riot was a gentle soul. My rough and tumble, enthusiastic to a fault, driven little bird dog was soft at heart. He was the silliest boy I have ever met; his single goal in life was to make his people happy. To make me happy. He would do absolutely anything for me. Anything. And that led to tonight, when the phone call came that he had collapsed, been intubated, coded and they had been at CPR for 5 minutes with three rounds of epinephrine and couldn’t get him back. As I started to come unraveled, they got him back. Intubated, a slow heart rate, but they got him back. My boy waited for me to get there, to hold him, to kiss his nose one last time, and to let him go. He held on, for me. I know he did.
You fought so hard baby boy. SO hard. I will never understand why you left me so early, but I will be grateful for every single day you let me share with you. Rest in peace, my heart. I love you.
Riot came into my life when it was going through several major changes. In jumped Riot. He was the puppy that was meant to put life back on track, put a smile on my face, and remind me to stop worrying, slow down, and enjoy the simple innocence of a rambunctious puppy figuring out the world. He met that tall order and lived up to his name quickly. I asked for it in naming him Riot, but a dog was never named so perfectly. Riot instantly filled a piece of our household that had gone missing, and he outgrew that spot, overflowing it with his endearing personality. There wasn’t a day that passed that Riot didn’t put a smile on my face and make me laugh. He had moments that made me want to give him a flying lesson off the balcony into the pool, but in the next instant he’d be smiling, calculating his next move, and making me forgive him within seconds. Oh my sweet, sweet boy.
As Riot grew up, I often joked that he had two brain cells. His first and most dominating brain cell has always been “HI, I’M RIOT!” Whenever he saw a new person, he had to meet them – and he met them with a smile, a full body wag, and usually some puppy talk exclamation of just how much he loved them already. He was my Walmart greeter. He’d try to go home with someone new each time we went on a hike or to the local off leash areas. Well, he would until he realized I wasn’t there, and then he’d come racing back to find me, panicked he’d lost me. Once at Cherry Creek he chased a tweety bird a few hundred yards off and lost track of me. He then proceeded to do sprinting laps up and down the last stretch of path we’d been on, barking, running up to everyone and taking off again, making a scene while looking for me. He ran past me four times in his absolute need to find me. When he finally caught sight of Sitka and followed Sitka to me, he sprinted over, buried his head in my knees and wouldn’t let me move for a full five minutes. His trainer would lament that the dog with the perfect, beautiful, efficient, breath taking gait and all that drive would never be a shooting dog or all age prospect because he just couldn’t stand not being able to see his Mom. He was probably right. And I adored my babyDog for it.
Riot’s second brain cell was “Life is wonderful”. The boy met each and every moment of his life with unbridled enthusiasm. That enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him learn something new, streak off to the front in search of game, point birds, retrieve a tennis ball, climb a tree, or jump some obstacle in his path. He always smiled. Always. Even when he got in trouble, he had a smile on his face. He knew no limits and accepted no boundaries – the world was his to conquer with his pure love of life. He once escaped out of his crate and shredded an 800-page novel. He met me at the door with a shit-eating grin on his face, the biggest chunk of the book in his mouth, and ran into the bedroom where the explosion had occurred to roll in his masterpiece and show me what he’d created. And I could only laugh. He was a dog obsessed with all small animals – birds, rabbits, squirrels, marmots, you name it. He once herded a group of marmot together just so he could bowl through them barking and leaping for joy when they scattered. He once watched a chukar flush straight up in the air and tore off chasing for all he was worth barking his head off… in the wrong direction (literally, the bird flew left and he ran off right). He came back so proud of himself. He had a jackrabbit and ground squirrel mania in the desert. Manic to the point of going THROUGH cholla cactus to “flush” and chase them, just to come back covered head to foot in the gnarly things. But as always, with a smile on his face and a mischievously guilty “sorry Mom” look in his eyes. He threw toys at the people he wanted to throw them for him. He jumped baby gates or fences when you tried to confine him. He barked when you weren’t paying attention to him. He terrorized squirrels by climbing up the trees they thought they were safe in. And at the end of the day, he’d snuggle in close, wrap his head around my left shoulder, tell me goodnight in his big groaning sigh, and fall asleep.
Riot was a gentle soul. My rough and tumble, enthusiastic to a fault, driven little bird dog was soft at heart. He was the silliest boy I have ever met; his single goal in life was to make his people happy. To make me happy. He would do absolutely anything for me. Anything. And that led to tonight, when the phone call came that he had collapsed, been intubated, coded and they had been at CPR for 5 minutes with three rounds of epinephrine and couldn’t get him back. As I started to come unraveled, they got him back. Intubated, a slow heart rate, but they got him back. My boy waited for me to get there, to hold him, to kiss his nose one last time, and to let him go. He held on, for me. I know he did.
You fought so hard baby boy. SO hard. I will never understand why you left me so early, but I will be grateful for every single day you let me share with you. Rest in peace, my heart. I love you.
Riot's Sire: NCH 2xNACH 2xCH Boot Scootin Boogie
"Boots" |
Riot's Dam: FC AFC Shiloh's Rock My World JH CGC
"Roxie" |