The Story of Recon: A Dog Who Died Protecting His Pack

Some dogs are more than pets. They’re protectors, teammates, and family. Recon was all three—and then some.

He came into my life at a time when I didn’t just want a dog—I needed a partner. As a Navy Special Operations veteran, I’ve worked with teammates I’d trust with my life. Recon gave me that same level of trust without question, every single day.

Recon was a 5-year-old purebred pit bull—strong, athletic, and always alert. He was incredibly active but never aggressive. He had a calm, steady presence that made him just as content lounging on the couch as tearing up trails or charging into the surf. He loved the beach. And when we hit the trails, he was in his element.

Everyone loved him—he was the perfect advocate for the bully breed. On my first date with my girlfriend Aubrey (who wasn’t really a dog person back then), we were out on the trails of all places. I gave her a heads-up that if Recon came barreling back toward us, she might want to step aside—sometimes he got so excited he couldn’t stop in time. Sure enough, Recon came sprinting down a trail by the water and ran right into Aubrey, breaking her leg just below the knee with his giant head. She fell back into me laughing but couldn’t get up, so I carried her out nearly three-quarters of a mile. It was a rough injury—Aubrey’s a runner, and it sidelined her for months—but she never held it against him. In fact, she bonded with him deeply. Even on crutches, he was glued to her side, matching her every move. And to her credit, she didn’t just forgive him—she let herself trust him, love him. Eventually, she became a full-blown dog person because of him. They had a connection no one could touch. She’d often take him out on her own for a treat or a pup cup, just the two of them. That’s the kind of dog Recon was—impossible not to love.

Confident, playful, focused, and always aware of his surroundings. On trail days, he’d move like a scout—true to his name, provided a Recon—cruising ahead of me and Malu, checking the path, circling back every so often to make sure we were still in step. Malu, our younger dog, would sometimes follow his lead, but she mostly stuck close to me while Recon handled the advance work. That was just his role—and he took it seriously.

The Day We Lost Him

On May 2, 2024, we were exploring a new trail, just the three of us, not far from sunset. The kind of quiet evening that feels like peace in motion.

Recon was ahead of us, doing his Recon thing.

Then we heard it—brush crashing in the distance, loud noises, barking, yelping. Something was wrong.

By the time we reached the spot, the damage was done.

Several wild boar scattered as we arrived, and there was Recon—badly injured, having made his stand alone. There hadn’t been time to get to him as much as we ran. He was doing what he always did—leading, protecting.

His wounds were beyond anything that could be fixed. So, I had to make the hardest call right there on the trail and put him down. Malu stayed step for step with me as I carried him back out to the truck. She completely stepped up that day and was there for me while I grieved until I was better, then she grieved on her own.

His Legacy Lives On

Recon’s sacrifice is why American Ruffneck Collars exists. He gave everything without hesitation—and I couldn’t find gear that felt worthy of that kind of dog. So I started building it.

But here's the thing—not every dog is an official working dog, yet they all act like they are. Whether they're on the job or just tackling life with the same spirit, they deserve gear that matches their drive.

Our collars and leashes are built to serve both ends of that spectrum—from real working K9s to the weekend warriors who hit trails, beaches, streets, or farms like it's a mission. Strength is the baseline—but style matters too. Our gear is tough, clean, and elevated. Not tactical cosplay. Not camo overload. Think rugged performance with a little bit of bougie. American-made, good-looking, and ready for whatever your dog throws at it.

Every piece we make is stitched with meaning. For the loyal. For the brave. For the ones who don’t just follow—they lead.

Recon, you weren’t just my dog. You were my partner. And Malu and I will carry your story forward—one step, one stitch, one leash at a time.