Remembering Rocky (2011-2025)

Fourteen years ago, Rocky was my 46th birthday present to myself, and he was the Best Present Ever.

He was a one-woman dog, and I was the world he wanted to live in.

He was 100% a home doggie. When he first came to us, we lived at the back end of a suburb. He loved talking about going for a walk, but as soon as we set out, he wanted to go home. Our walks started normally, but got faster and faster, Rocky tugging on the leash, until we were safely home again.

Our next door neighbors had a cockapoo named Buddy, and while Rocky didn’t want to play with other dogs, he was very interested in Buddy’s toys, and stole more than one from his yard.

We had to teach Rocky how to play with toys. He eventually learned to fetch, but if you threw his toy more than about 5 feet, you were going to have to go get it yourself. His favorite place to play was indoors, with me, on the bed. He loved a good squeaky toy, and he also liked the ones with crinkly paper inside (I bought several of one we called “Crunchy Owl”); he would shake them fiercely and bring them to me to tug and toss with him.

We tried to teach him to be an omnivore, but he was very clear with us about what he would and wouldn’t eat. The only treat he ever wanted was cheese, although when our next-door neighbor’s son, who was about three years old, started giving him mini-milk bones (the flavored ones) (only!), Rocky decided those were acceptable. I still think it was because little Joe was giving them to Buddy, and Rocky wanted whatever Buddy had.

I bought those flavored milk bone minis for years, and was shocked one day when Rocky refused to eat them. We finally realized why; the packaging had changed—they now came in plastic jars—and Rocky was only willing to have the kind in the cardboard box. So I kept an old box on hand and had to re-package his treats for a week or so before he’d accept one.

He was not a fan of change!

With one notable exception.

We moved to the mountains when he was four, and that was when his happiest years began.

Rocky loved living out in the country, never seeing or hearing another dog or neighbor. Suddenly he became a huge fan of walks, and would even wander down the driveway on his own a little bit, which worried me, because while we didn’t have big dogs or neighbors we did have bears and coyotes and hawks. But he did just fine.

Rocky was a firm believer in staying on the path. He loved a good path to walk on, and sternly disapproved when Lance and I set out overland to explore some new wildflower or mushroom I’d spotted..

We had two cats, Henry and Olive, when Rocky was little, but after they passed on, we adopted two more, and since the two new ones loved nothing more than a hike on the mountain, Rocky decided they were acceptable.

Both Pippi and Beezus liked their big doggy brother, but he never understood why they wanted to bump faces with him, nap next to him, or sometimes swatted at his tail. He gave them both a little bit of snappy face in order to keep them in line, and they retaliated by setting what we called “cat traps.” They did this by running ahead on a hike, then flopping across the path so that he couldn’t get past without going off the trail. Off the trail! He hated going even a few inches off the trail. The cats thought that was hilarious, and I found myself having to walk up or back and poke them to get them to move and let Rocky through.

He was never a big fan of trips in the car, although once we moved to the mountains he loved going camping with us. He adored hikes in the snow, rain, or sun, and even after he got too old to walk on the mountain, he would lay on the warm deck in the sun while we hiked near the house.

Our slough trail became his mainstay, because it was short and mostly flat, and he always wanted to walk through both of our shallow creeks. He never missed an opportunity to drink from—or just sit in—any of our creeks or seeps.

While everyone knew that Rocky was mine-all-mine, Lance had a soft spot for him, and would feed him from the table if there was something Rocky liked. More than once he fed Rocky pancakes with maple syrup straight off his fork.

Rocky loved going foraging with me, sitting on his blue “Princess Pillow,” and napping on the bed or under my easel while I painted in my studio. He barked at every deer that ever walked on our mountain (which was a lot of deer) and he even barked at the memory of every deer that ever walked on our mountain. It was all a part of his plan to keep me safe, which he considered his One Job, a job he loved and poured himself into.

Even at the end of his 14 years, he sat with me on the couch, or watched me as I moved around the den or kitchen, still doing his job. I spent every minute of those last few days with him, and even though we had all those years together, I still wish we’d had more.

We laid him to rest in the slough, right by the path, between the two creeks he loved so much. I can’t thank him enough for all his gifts to me, and his relentlessly loving presence in my life.

Rocky, there will never be another like you. You did the job.