2

If you don't want to read a sad blog stop now and skip to the next one. The subject of 2 was chosen because our second dog passed away this weekend. Rocco was 14. Rocco has been with the kids their entire lives. In fact, Rocco has been 'our' dog for 12 years. 'Our' meaning he was the first thing that I and Stacey got together.

Rocco started out as a trick; a good trick but none the less a trick. Stacey and I were dating. I lived in my first house in Commerce with two roommates and Lucky (my brown dog). Stacey was trying to talk me into getting a playmate for Lucky. I was sticking hard that she didn't need a playmate. Stacey said it would be easy to get one because Pet Supplies Plus had an adopt-a-dog day one Saturday per month. I told her we won't go on that Saturday. Months roll by and my guard was down. One Saturday afternoon she suggested that we go up to the pet store and get Lucky a special treat. My guard was down and we went. (For the past 12 years Stacey had fully taken the blame of such trickery, only to be revealed on Sunday that my mom called Stacey and told her to get me up there because there was an absolutely beautiful dog that she connected with and that I should get).

We walked in and there was Rocco. In a kennel by the door. A gorgeous, white furrball looking at me with the sweetest eyes. I knew I had been had but I couldn't resist Rocco. We found out that he was a pure-bred American Eskimo, he was two years old, he was trained as a show dog, and his previous owner had gone away to college and couldn't keep him.

I normally slept on my bed with Lucky. When I brought Rocco home I wanted to acclimate him to the house and Lucky. The dogs were indifferent to each other. I didn't want to upset Lucky so I didn't let Rocco sleep on the bed the first night. Instead, I slept on the floor next to Rocco so he wouldn't be lonely in his new home.

Rocco used his teeth a lot when he first came home. Right after he got home we noticed he wasn't neutered. He was suppose to be. The American Eskimo rescue league told me to take him to their vet to have him neutered. I obeyed and took him to a vet I knew nothing about. I got Rocco back later that day with a lamp shade on his head (protective collar attached at the neck designed to keep him from licking the stitches off). He was trying to jump up into the Camaro but kept catching his collar and falling to the ground. It was funny and sad. All he wanted to do was go home. A week or so passed and a friend came over to meet Rocco. I was in the back room when I heard him barking. I paid no attention because Rocco barked at a lot of things (totally unlike Lucky so I wondered why I got this new one). Then came the snarling rage, attack bites, and the human screaming. I rushed up to find my friend bleeding from her hand. She came in as a stranger, Rocco barked and went under the table to hide. She reached down to pet him, he thought she was trying to grab him. He bit her finger. She bled. It was not deep. It was 'but a flesh wound.' I cleaned her up and put a band-aid on it. Two days later she was convinced that she had to go to the hospital or it would turn gangrene and need to be cut off. With going to the hospital and claiming a dog bite, she had to fill out paperwork accusing my dog. A week after the bite, an agent from Oakland County Animal Control came to take Rocco away for observation. They needed to see if he had rabies within 10 days of the bite. The agent was convinced that Rocco was in the right, he didn't appear to be a mean dog (he was snuggling up to her) and she allowed me to quarantine him at home until the 10-day observation period was over. A dog was allowed three strikes (bites) and it would be put to sleep on the third. Rocco had one. Fast forward a few months and I opened a letter from a law firm stating, "as you know, your dog, Rocco, bit so-and-so which has caused her much pain and suffering and extensive medical bills". I remember this letter as if it were yesterday. I remember the words. I remember the law firm. I remember it all. Turns out Rocco bit the vet tech while she was trying to cut his nuts off. Strange, but I don't blame him. Strike two. We had a friend that would always come over in a hat. Rocco didn't like men in hats. Rocco eventually caught him on the hand. Essentially strike 2 1/2 but Luke didn't turn him in. While we were in Utah this past Holiday break we got a call from our dog sitter. She was hysterical. She didn't know what to do. Rocco bit her and she was bleeding all over the house. We told her to go to the hospital and get it fixed. We were very worried. This was strike 3. Our poor Rocco. That damn dog - why did he have to bite. We had many mixed emotions between being mad at him, mad at us, and sad for him. Turns out the emergency room cleaned it and put a small band-aid on it. And apparently didn't file any report to Oakland County. We just spent the next few months worrying about when they were going to take our dog away and that day never came. You beat them Rocco.

Turns out Stacey was right. Lucky did need a companion. Whenever I came home from work both dogs went nuts to see me. They ran around the house. They demanded my attention. They enjoyed sharing walks. Only trouble is, as my roommate Jim observed, "Those two don't give a hoot about the other one when you're not here. Lucky sleeps in one room and Rocco in another until you're here." Hmm, maybe Stacey wasn't as 'right' as she claimed.

Rocco was a very loving dog though. I was the center of his world (after I saved him from the rescue league and he forgave me for getting him fixed). He loved to lick. He could lick one spot on your body until it went numb. He could lick feet, shins, hands anything on anybody. Except the face. He would only lick my face. My brother Sean tried to get him to lick his face for years but Rocco wouldn't. He finally progressed to licking both Stacey and Sean in the face once or twice but he clearly reserved that for me. He would also follow me around everywhere. That must be where the phrase "follow like a little puppy dog" comes from. When I was out front, he would watch threw the front screen. When I say watch through the front screen I mean it. He would want to get so close that he would press his eyeball into the screen.

Rocco spent a year living with my brother Sean when Robbie was a baby. He also spent 6 months at a friends house while we were in Australia. The couple grew very fond of Rocco and hated to give him back when we returned. He grew attached too and eventually licked their faces (he must have thought he was kidnapped and he was never going to see us again).

Rocco fit in well with our family. He knew his place with Lucky. She was the queen and he was just there. He slept on the bed with Lucky and I after he got her permission. When Timber was later introduced, he used his 30 lbs size to put the 110 lbs Timber in his place. Til the end, Timber always would try to rough house with Rocco; ending in Rocco snapping and telling Timber to stop. Rocco was good with the kids too. If I were in the room and Haley or Robbie came crawling up, he would look up with those sad puppy dog eyes saying, "Please keep them away from me." He would most often move away but sometimes get caught and ask for help. He was very good on walks and always would follow our directions. If we asked him to sit and let the neighborhood kids pet him, he would as long as he could see me. Kids loved the little fluffy, white dog. They didn't care as much for the bigger brown one or the huge black one. Little did they know that it was the white one that was the most dangerous.

We never saw this coming. We always wondered when and how soon it would come but we didn't expect it now. Lucky had gone through months of deteriorating. She was in pain. She struggled moving around. She had accidents on the floors. Rocco got just sick. On Friday we noticed he didn't eat Thursday night or Friday morning. Friday at dinner I gave him food and watched him eat while I protected his bowl from the other two vultures, Timber and Max. He reluctantly ate but the whole while he looked up at me like, "I don't want this. I'm only doing this for you." He was lethargic on Friday. On Saturday he just laid there. We called the vet and the earliest they could fit him in was in a few hours. Robbie was having his 4th birthday party with 10 four-year-olds jumping around him and running by and Rocco didn't move away. He was too weak. He was excessively panting. We tried to encourage him to get up but he wouldn't. I ended up taking him early to the vet. He would not walk for me. I carried him to the truck. He laid in the back while I drove there. I tried to coax him out but he again wouldn't move. I had to climb in and carry him again. Still I didn't think he was dying. I carried him in and laid him on the scale. He had lost 3 pounds since April but that wasn't unexpected. He hadn't been eating the last few days. He then did walk with me to the examination room. He tried to sit but his butt kept sliding out. I ended up making him lay down. The doctor looked at him, took a chest x-ray (everything looked fine), and took some blood for blood work. She didn't know what was wrong with him. He laid there and let them all poke and push on him without showing a tooth. He was very calm and weak. Without finding anything we went home to await the blood work results. He walked out of the vet and jumped out of the truck when we were at home. He acted like himself for an hour or so. Then he went back to being lethargic. He would only eat one handful of food from my hand (except for the food droppings that he vacuumed up after the kids ate). I moved him to a quieter spot away from the kids. There he stayed as long as I was there petting him. A neighbor girl was afraid of him. I coaxed her into petting him. She was very happy when she finally did pet him. He was, "so soft and nice." Her dad later told me that she is very afraid of dogs and has only pet three others in her life. Rocco helped her make strides to learn dogs are good to have around. That night Rocco went upstairs and into our room as normal at bedtime. Sunday morning he was already downstairs and laying in the living room. He again wouldn't eat. He wouldn't get up. He wouldn't pick his head up when I tried to give him medicine. This lasted a few hours. When we were eating lunch I watched him move from one spot to another and then to his final spot. Shortly after lunch his panting got worse. I didn't know what to do. I called the vet again but they were closed. While I was calling he had a BM. I thought, "Poor dog. He doesn't even have enough energy to get up to go to the bathroom." I still didn't know he was dying. Very shortly later his legs went outward, he was then just involuntarily twitching. His breathing had stopped. His eyes were glassed over. He was gone.

We were all there with him - me, Stacey, mom, Ron, Sean, Erin, Haley, and Robbie. We explained to the kids that Rocco had just died. They asked us why we were crying. It's a hard thing to explain. Even as very young kids, Haley and Robbie have both gone through two other deaths. They know that everything must die. They know of the Circle of Life. They know they will never see Papa, Lucky, and now Rocco again. They know that they are all going to live on in only our memories. Yet they are not sad. We explain to them how the memories are good memories. Those memories should keep us happy. Death itself is sad but the memories are happy. How do we, as adults, change to be so sad at death when we can explain the opposite to a child?

They asked what happens next. We didn't know. Stacey told them he may be cremated and turned to ashes. Some people bury their pets. They came over and gave a final pet and kiss before I moved him into a sheet and into the garage. Haley unexpected asked, "Now that he won't be mad, can I see his teeth." We showed them. In the garage, Robbie wanted to see Rocco's face one more time. We unwrapped it and showed him. Then for the two of them life was good again and they went off to play.

Rocco is in the back yard. The kids want to plant a tree over him. They already have at least one name for the tree:
First Name: Rocco
Middle Name: Good Dog
Last Name: Nice Dog

Rocco, always remember that Robbie is fast on his ice skates....always remember.