R.I.P. Rocky

As I mentioned in this post, our 15-year-old puggle (1/2 pug, 1/2 beagle) passed away last week.   He'd been slowing down pretty significantly the last few months and we knew he probably wouldn't be around too much longer, but it still took us off guard how hard it was when the day finally came. 😢

To commemorate his life, I thought it would be apt to share the story of how we got him:   

I'll be the first to admit that I am not an animal person!   I grew up in a home without pets and this picture shows pretty accurately how we felt about animals in my family.     My cousins, siblings, and I are sitting on my grandmother's front porch in Oklahoma City and a dog had just wandered into view.   I'm told that it was a very calm, friendly dog, but it didn't matter.   It was a furry creature, which meant that we were petrified.  I am the one in the red dress just looking nervously at it, along with my cousin (the same age) sitting next to me.  My brother (in the suit), cousin (in the stripes),  and sister (in the lavender), however, are completely terrified.   The babies remain oblivious.    

This photo was taken approximately 45 years ago, but still reflects fairly accurately how my family feels about dogs, in particular.   3/8 of the siblings remain pet-less to this day.    4/8 are now cat owners.    We are the only dog-owners.   My brother (in the suit) remains nervous around animals to this day and will not even deign to greet our dogs or any of the other family member's cats when he comes to visit.   

So....how did we end up with dogs?    First off, Glen is allergic to cats, which put all felines off the table instantly for us.   Secondly, we had a very persistent child, who decided that she really, really, really wanted a dog.   Thirdly, I married a dog-lover.     

For years, Glen talked about how he'd like to get a dog....someday.   I always told him I'd think about it when we didn't have any small children anymore.   I knew myself well enough to know that having a dog AND small children would be too much for me.   Then when Cami was a tween, she had a couple of close friends with dogs and she got the idea in her head that she really wanted one as well.      For fun, she would beg to visit pet stores, so she could ogle over and sometimes even hold the puppies.   I'm pretty sure that seeing a puggle puppy in a pet store that had a sign next to it that said, "Good with kids," was what got her sold on that breed as her dream pet.    Over the course of a couple years, we received several letters from her outlining all the reasons why we needed a dog, why a puggle was an especially good breed to look at, and what she would do to take care of a dog.    

I remained resistant until the day when figurative lightning struck.   

One day, Diane,  the Mom of one of Cami's good friends called me and told me that a good friend of theirs was bringing their 1-year-old puggle to the shelter because they didn't have a fenced yard for him.   He was already house-trained, was great with kids, and they were willing to give him to us for free.  Glen and I quickly  discussed and decided that if we were ever going to get a dog, this was the way to do it.  We were saving him from having to go to the shelter, he was young, but already house-trained, and it was Cami's "dream breed".     So we decided to go for it. 

The kids and Glen were instantly smitten, but I won't lie....it was a rough adjustment for me.  Rocky was sweet and gentle, but he was also super barky, shed a ton, was constantly figuring out ways to escape our fenced yard, and loved to get into mischief around the house.   I was mad at him A LOT....especially those first few years we had him.    But he somehow wiggled his way into our hearts and here we are 14-years later mourning that a piece of our hearts has gone.   

Kids generally adored him, especially the last few years when he stopped being able to jump up on them.  Though his bark was loud, he was truly gentle and loved being close to his people.    With all his old-agedness that plagued him the last several months, he never lost his appetite and you could set a clock to his barking when dinner time arrived.  Between his age, his struggles to walk, and his final symptom (blood dripping from his mouth without any visible injuries) we knew that he wouldn't be coming home from the vet, so we made sure he got to eat some of his favorite foods (cheese and yogurt) before bringing him in.  It felt apt that he was well-fed, had a day full of snuggles,  and was being held by his biggest champion (Glen) when he left this world.    He will be missed.  

     Here are some picture collages with some of our favorite photos of him.   

Here are the mementos we received from the vet's office:  

Rest in peace, Rocky!   We miss you!  

(Read here for my very first post about Rocky and here's another one all about him a couple years later)