My Dad brought Rocky home to be his dog on December 21st. He found him wandering around at the water treatment plant and feared for his safety. We all knew right away that Rocky was not just an ordinary dog. There was something in his eyes. My Mom always said that he had people eyes.
Rocky and I became fast friends and on Christmas morning he sat there with a big red bow around his neck and a note that said "To Judi from Dad." He was my dog.
Rocky was my baby. The first pet that I had that was my very own. He was named Rockford James, although he acted more like Rocky Balboa!! He loved to talk, and his "wrow wrow wrows" all had their own meaning, and if we guessed wrong he let us know. He was special.
He loved vegetables and he loved wearing bandanas around his neck. He had a different one for every holiday and several for every day. When one would get dirty, I would take it off of him and he would go into his "bandanna box" and pick out another to wear. He was smart as a whip too, he would pick up his toys when told to and put them in his toy box, and even learned to help my Mom move furniture when her legs started to give her trouble. He would stand up on his hind legs and push the back of the chair so she could clean behind it, then push on the seat to move it back.
He was a beautiful dog, a rich reddish brown with dark almost black eyes with a flash of green in the left one. I had a friend that was an artist and she would sketch and draw pictures of him. She painted a portrait of him that hangs in my home still. It is right here in the computer room right next to my desk. I look at it and still smile, remembering what a beautiful soul he was.
All of our dogs, the family pets, lived to a ripe old age. Rocky was not that lucky. He was only about five years old when his time to leave came too quickly for all of us. I think it made it that much harder because it happened so fast. I left for work in the morning and he was fine. I came home from work, and he ran to me as usual, but something was wrong. He wouldn't sit down at dinner time. He always sat beside me, and yes he begged, but I didn't mind. He kept going to the door to be let out in the yard. The third time I let him out, I noticed that he was panting awfully hard. It was September, and not particularly warm, so I was concerned. I went out to check on him and knew something was wrong. He couldn't catch his breath. We called our vet who told us that it sounded bad and that we should take him to the state animal clinic. My Dad, my brother and I drove the 15 or so miles to the clinic, and it seemed to take forever. They had just taken down the toll booths and traffic was terrible. I thought we would never get there. He was breathing harder, and couldn't lay down or sit down. He stood across my lap the whole way. He knew that I was upset because I was crying. He kept licking my face as if to tell me it was alright. We got to the clinic and they took him in right away. We waited for what seemed like hours before the vet came out to us. My worst fears became reality. He had contracted the bloat, a condition where the intestines twist and he couldn't get enough air in or out of him. They had pumped his stomach and he was resting comfortably.
The Vet told me that there was a surgery that would "help for now" but that there was no guarantee that it wouldn't reoccur and each time it would be worse. He would be in pain, and could suffocate. I had to decide. I had to make THAT decision. He had been such a good friend, such a beautiful companion, and though it broke my heart , I couldn't put him through that again. The vet told me that it was the merciful thing to do. I spent a few minutes with him, talking to him, crying, hugging and kissing him, and begging him to understand. I know that he did, he licked my hand and wagged his tail. I held him in my arms as the vet gave him the injection that eased his suffering, and gave him peace, then I cried until I couldn't cry anymore.
I have a new "baby" now. My beautiful Ebony, my baby girl, who I love with all of my heart. It took me 15 years to let myself love another dog. She is very special, very loving and very much my baby. It would break my heart to lose her as well, but she is not Rocky, and I know in my heart, that there will never be another Rocky. God sent me Ebony, knowing that I was going to lose my beautfiul cat Miss Black all to soon, and to fill the void her passing would leave. I thank God every day for Ebony, and I thank Him too for allowing Rocky to be a part of my life.
I still miss him, and I still cry when something reminds me of him, but I know that he is waiting for me, and we will be together again someday.
