My dog Rocky died today. He was the best dog in the world.
Rocky entered my life when he was a puppy. My mother bought him for my fifteenth birthday. I was living in Lubbock, Texas then. We went to the house of a family whose two huskies had a litter of puppies. The puppies were compact balls of fur with stubby legs and tails. One puppy was trying to hide in between a garden shed and a backyard fence. That was Rocky.
At first Rocky went everywhere with me. When me and my friends went “mudding” in my mom’s Jeep, Rocky was there. I even tried to train Rocky to be an indoor house dog. One event where the puppy peed on my bed put a quick end to the house training and Rocky became an outdoor dog.
Rocky was energetic and ferocious in his youth. He loved to chew on things. Throughout his life, Rocky’s favorite toys were plush toy animals. He would carry them around and lick them as if they were his children. Rocky always had a dopey smile on his face.
One summer when Rocky was about a year old I took him to my father’s house in Wink, Texas for a few weeks. My dad had an old yellow pickup truck and we tried letting Rocky ride in the back of the truck one day. When the truck was moving slowly down the street, Rocky either jumped or fell out of the back. From then on he had a fear of heights, even short distances.
Later that summer while my dad was at work, I walked out to a shed behind the house to get a “dirt bike” motorcycle out. I opened the door to the shed and stepped inside. As my adjusted to the darkness I heard a rattle sound immediately to my right. To my horror I realized that there was a rattlesnake just a few feet away from me, coiled up and ready to strike. Before I could react, Rocky leapt between me and the snake. Rocky snarled and barked at the snake. The snake lunged forward, biting my protector on the nose. I grabbed Rocky and pulled him outside the shed while the snake slithered away into the darkness. An episode ensued where I drove Rocky to no less than five towns looking for a veterinarian who was open on a Sunday. At one point I ran out of gas, but I had no money. A friendly municipal worked filled my car with fuel and pointed me in the direction of a town with an open veterinarian. Eventually I found the veterinarian. They gave Rocky an anti-venom shot. His snout swelled p to twice its regular size for a few weeks, but otherwise he recovered just fine.
As the years went on Rocky’s interest changed. He liked to catch small animals in our backyard. The neighbors next door had a pet rabbit. Either Rocky dug a small opening under the fence or the rabbit did. Whichever was the case, the rabbit ended up as prey for the mighty hunter. When two children from next door came to our house looking for their rabbit, my mother told them that she didn’t know what happened to it. I think that she didn’t think that the kids were old enough to know what a dog eat rabbit world we live in. Later in life, Rocky would catch eleven possums in our backyard during a single summer in sub-urban Dallas-Ft. Worth.
Rocky used to love going to the park. Marijke and I used to take him to a park near our house. The park had a children’s play area in which there was a small series of steps and an elevated walkway. The steps and walkway were made out of a metal mesh which you could see through to the ground. Every weekend Marijke and I would walk Rocky part of the way up the steps until he got too scared to continue. Each time he would go a little bit further, until eventually he overcame his fear of heights and could walk all the way across the walkway.
During one memorable visit to the park, a metal ring connecting Rocky’s collar to his leashed snapped free. (As a dog bred to pull sleds, Rocky always pulled when he was taken for a walk.) After a moment’s hesitation, Rocky burst down the park running at full speed. Marijke and I chased him until we thought we had cornered him. Marijke and I were spread out to the right and left in front of Rocky. Behind him was a small pond surrounded by tall reeds. To our surprise, Rocky turned and disappeared into the reeds. Moments later Rocky burst out of the reeds. He was soaked in water and carrying an enormous duck in his mouth. Marijke and I chased Rocky to the park’s parking lot. There Rocky trotted out to the middle of a group of small girls dressed to play soccer. Rocky dropped the no lifeless duck and looked around with a beaming smile. It was as if he was saying “Look at what I caught!” I grabbed Rocky and pulled him to the car while twenty eight-year old girls chanted “bag dog” in unison behind us. We never went back to that park.
Even though Rocky liked to catch things, he adored people and most other dogs. One day I came home from work to find a Chihuahua in the back yard with Rocky. The Chihuahua had squeezed underneath our gate. Rocky and the newcomer trotted around the yard together all weekend like they were attached at the hip. A few days later the Chihuahua was gone. There was a note on our front door from the dog’s owner, thanking us for being kind people and taking care of his runaway dog. We kept the note on our refrigerator for a long time.
Rocky would often dig out underneath the fence. It was more of a game to him than an attempt to escape. One day I heard a knocking at the front door. I opened it to find Rocky smiling on the front porch. He has dug underneath the back-yard fence, walked around to the front of the house and pawed at the front door to be let in.
About eight months ago Rocky developed a cough. At first the veterinarian did not know what it was. Then in September Rocky worsened and was given a series of tests. At age thirteen, Rocky was diagnosed with congenital heart disease. People say that dogs are man’s best friends, and it is true. A dog will love you unconditionally throughout its life. In a cruel twist of fate, the thing which limits the lifespan of many dogs (particularly large breeds) is that their hearts grow too big. Their hearts become so big that at some point they can no longer pump blood efficiently. This causes fluid to build up in the lungs until they cannot breathe.
In September the veterinarians thought that Rocky only had two or three days left, but he struggled on for three more months. I was there at the end. Rocky lay panting and unable to move. His tongue was bluish and there was a glaze over his eyes. I petted him on his head and he closed his eyes as if savoring the moment. He turned his head away then back. He lifted his head up and for an instant the glaze lifted from his eyes. I hoped that Rocky was going to get up and that everything would be ok after all. But he did not get up. Rocky laid his head back down for what would be the last time. I think that moment when Rocky used the last of his strength to lift his head and look into my eyes was his way of saying goodbye. I loved my dog and my life is richer for having known him.