Whoa Mama

Friday, October 23, 2009


We went pound shopping before Sam was born. With pretty low expectations. We hoped for a trained dog who wasn't too old and obviously had to be good with kids. Preferably not a mutt of unknown origin.

This was seriously not going to happen. We came very close to landing lots of sad cats and some very questionable dogs. Pounds are sad places.

Then Scott calls me....with a dog in the car. He got a call from a pound in East-of-No-Where, CT. They had several pure bred labs that were picked up running as strays on New Year's Eve. This fellow was the last one left. An under weight chocolate lab with stage 3 heart worm. He was maybe 2 or 3, we thought. In hindsight, he was probably older.

I was skeptical to say the least. Little did I know that Rockport T. Dog, henceforth called Rocky, would become a member of our family, a playmate for the boys and an all-around sweet and loving dog. He knew the school bus sound and ran to the window when one drove by. He laid by the baskets and beds of the boys and chased the cursed bees that had the nerve to bite his boy.

He endeared himself to everyone, even dog-non-lovers. Mom. He occasionally wandered, down to a local cafe where they fed him french fries and then called us to come get him. He was an inveterate thief! Coming home with anything he wanted that wasn't tied down, especially the dogs' bones from across the street. He was just a good dog.

In December, when we moved his hips just were not going to make it anywhere with more than a step or two. John was wonderful enough to take him since his house fit the bill and he loved Rocky.

Today, John had to do what every pet owner dreads. He had to put Rocky down after a long and happy life. I feel like we saddled him with not only that decision but also the deed. I'm really grateful because I'm just not suited for it.

Here are some pictures that typify Rocky.
Rest in peace, buddy.


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