Rocky

My sweet dog of 14 years, Rocky, was recently diagnosed with bladder cancer. Rocky is the dog I wished for my whole life. Literally. Every birthday cake candle wish was for a dog. Every time I blew away the white seeds of a dandelion I wished for a dog. 

I got Rocky shortly after I turned 21 and my cat of 14 years passed away. I happened to be at Petco one day when I noticed a women with an adorable dog. She told me there were more and gave me the number.

I remember the moment I met Rocky clearly. He was in a little pen jumping up and down. I picked him up, set him on my lap and he was still and so happy to be there. No movement, no wiggles, he just nestled in an itty bitty ball and snuggled in. They brought out another dog too but when I picked her up she wanted to be put down. Rocky felt right. Rocky fit there. You know how sometimes you make decisions in life and are so completely satisfied with them? Rocky is one of those decisions for me. 

He was my best buddy during my grad school days when I lived alone. He put up with the addition of my husband and his dog to our home and then the addition of two kids. He greets me at the door. He has been my constant companion. He has bonded with my babies. He sleeps with my daughter at night and keeps away her bad dreams. My son affectionately calls him “Ocky” and looks for him first thing in the morning when he wakes up. He is an integral part of my family and losing him will be hard. It’ll be hard because I will be losing my first dog. My birthday wishes come true. I didn’t just get a dog in Rocky, I got my dream dog. A sweet tiny little thing that could curl up in a ball on my lap but could also hike mountains and swim in lakes with his doggie life jacket.

It’ll be hard on a whole other level because it will also be my little girls first big loss. Watching her experience loss and seeing her hurt is going to compound the hurt that I am already feeling.  I know she’ll be ok and it will force her to grow and become more resilient in ways she wouldn’t have had to otherwise, but it’ll still be hard.

The vet said Rocky has about six months to live. I was discussing all of this with my mom one night and she said, 

“Ok. This is sad. This is hard, but he is not dead yet. Don’t start mourning him until he is gone. Rocky can’t live like that. He deserves better then that.”

My mom is so right. 

I decided from that moment moving forward to just enjoy every moment I had with Rocky and worry about the rest of the stuff later. I was given the gift of knowing that my time with him is limited and I won’t take it for granted. I will be there for his life, not the funeral.