I’ll post in a little while

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

I just had news that Rocky, my remote-auxiliary-backup dog died this morning.

I have always wanted a dog since we’ve been married but between frequent moves, the fact we tend to buy houses I rebuild from the wall in, and my getting sick far too often, oh, and the 4 to 6 cons a year we used to do, that’s simply not been possible.

Through years of living without a dog, I became somewhat fearful of them. (The dogs who jumped the fence at me often when we lived in Manitou didn’t help.  Though one of them was a sheepdog who just wanted to bask in younger son’s presence.)

So when I visited Amanda while teaching a workshop, I was shocked to find that Rocky and I were like…. we’d always known each other.  The best part of my arrival in Texas was Rocky doing his train impression.  No matter where I was or whether he was in the back yard when I arrived, as soon as the door opened, he’d come charging through the house like a freight train to do the dance of doggy join and get petted.  And when I stayed there, he slept on my feet when I wrote. He was in fact “my” dog, even if we only saw each other once a year.  (He was also Amanda’s and her family’s, yes, but he treated me like one of them.)

I’m not going to TX this year because of both Amanda’s and my schedule and I told her just two days ago that I could write much better with a dog on my feet.

It’s not going to happen.  Rocky went to the rainbow bridge unexpectedly this morning.

He was a good and loyal dog, and I hope to see him again when the time comes.

I will write a post but right now I need to have a good cry.

42 thoughts on “I’ll post in a little while”

  1. So sad…this is the worst part about loving them…Please tell Amanda I am sorry for her loss.

  2. ((hugs))

    Sarah, this is a post. You don’t need to write another one.

    And I’m giving the Rocky dog at my feet a good ear-rub after I type this.

  4. My Great Pyrenees/Chocolate Lab friend, Snickers died of a bad habit several years ago – and I’m not ready yet to open my heart for another. Dogs don’t just get under your skin, they burrow into your heart – and break it when they pass.
    My sympathies to Amanda (and you) during this time.
    As the Vulcans put it, I grieve with thee.

  8. Dogs the little reminders of how we are supposed to treat each other.

    😦 Take Care. We are here if ypu need to vent as always.

    1. I don’t think people going around pissing on people’s legs is how people are supposed to treat each other.

      1. Sean,

        Crap! So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong all these years and why I have know freinds.

        I wish someone had told me sooner.

        😉

      2. If you tell them it’s raining, you could be a politician.

        … oh sorry, we were talking about how you’re *supposed* to treat people … carry on then.

  10. By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,
    Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.
    Where the friends of man and woman do run,
    When their time on earth is over and done.

    For here, between this world and the next,
    Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.
    On this golden land, they wait and they play,
    Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.

    No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,
    For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.
    Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,
    Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.

    They romp through the grass, without even a care,
    Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.
    All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,
    Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.

    For just at that instant, their eyes have met;
    Together again, both person and pet.
    So they run to each other, these friends from long past,
    The time of their parting is over at last.

    The sadness they felt while they were apart,
    Has turned into joy once more in each heart.
    They embrace with a love that will last forever,
    And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

      1. No one seems to know who wrote Rainbow Bridge. It’s been around for at least 30 years now.

  11. (Starts the Howl for Rocky)
    There’s something about a meeting dog that knows instantly you are one of his Best Buddies Ever, even if it is news to you. They know. It’s happened to me, and it’s as close to a spiritual experience as this grumpy agnostic has ever seen. I suddenly want to be the person that dog thinks I am.

  13. I lost a cat of 21 years this year. I console myself that at least he got to see Texas and not just a one bedroom North Hollywood apartment…but it leaves a hole.

    But know that the love you had for that dog will find another home that reciprocates it just as joyfully.

  14. They give all of their heart to you but they tear away pieces of yours when they leave. Thinking of you and Amanda. And I hope the right one comes to claim you when your ready.

    1. Our plan is to get a puppy when the house is sold, and another found. The plan is to get a house with a “dog-worthy backyard.”
      And think of Amanda more. She has to deal with burial and such. Though it’s very hard to be away just now.

  15. Condolences to you both. The dog I have now will hurt the most of any I’ve had when she goes. Probably in about 5 years. We may decide to get another soon, partially to moderate that loss we know is coming.

  19. I’m sorry, both for you and for Amanda. I lost Scout, a FarmCollie, last fall after thirteen years. Still miss him. Still miss a cat we had for eleven years, for that matter, and she died about thirteen years ago. I’ve still got three dogs; one of them is a big livestock guardian dog, weighs over a hundred pounds. She’s a big baby, thinks I’m her mother, and it just makes me sad that the big dogs usually have an even shorter lifespan than most dogs do. She’s not quite three, so hopefully we will still have her for a while. One of the reasons I got a little Rat Terrier is that they live around eighteen years, on average. Longer to love them (and Ladybug is a love!).

    1. I still miss Pixie who died eight years ago at 21. And I suspect when Havey goes he’ll leave the same hole in our hearts. But he’s a massive cat and a turkish van which means he’s likely to get diabetes. (A worry.) Right now he knows I’m sad, so he’s sitting close to me and meeping in distress. (He has the voice of a 12 week old kitten. Or as adopted daughter in law says, “the voice of a kitten the size of his head.”)

      1. So sorry. Lost my White (Persian cat) three weeks ago. Sadness. Persians don’t last long either. I’ve had/have two diabetic cats (one is still with me). Diabetes in cats is not a death sentence.

    2. I still ache for our bernese Zack that we lost six years ago. I moved home after my dad died ten years ago and for years he was my shadow. He died a year after I moved away and I was unconsolable for days.

      I have never met another dog that was so people centred. Zack always picked people over food or other dogs. He would stop eating and pine for us whenever we had to leave him with family or at a kennel for a few days. People would call us and tell us he was deathly ill because he would just lie there and ignore his food. We had to remind them every time that he was sad and needed to be talked into it. He always snapped out of it as soon as we came home. ninety pounds of love and joy that guy.

      Freeholder I’ve heard good things about farm collies. They’re at the top of my list when I’m ready to get another dog. Was Scout the old scotch collie type or the english shepherd type? Sorry for your loss, hope your big dog lives a long healthy life. She sounds wonderful. 🙂

  21. My condolences. Dogs are family, right down to missing them forever when they’re gone. But having them around while they are here is worth it.

  26. My wife and I plan to move out of California as soon as we can manage it. When we get to wherever we end up we want as many dogs as we can manage. We’ve both been wanting dogs since forever but it’s not fair to have one of any size when you’re stuck in an apartment. So we, too, grieve for thee and thy friend.

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