My right hand man, my sidekick, my handsome boy is dying, and I cannot do a thing for him. His liver is failing, and he is an old pup, and all I can do is be with him, and say things that I hope he understands. Rocky is The Rock Of Gibraltar, but has eroded before our eyes. I cannot take away his pain, or make him young again, and it is tearing me up inside.
I hate watching him lay here, in our room, lifeless. I know that in his head, he wants a treat, or to get all kinds of petting, and maybe steal some food from a dish. He wants to run again, and lick my face, and harrumph when he doesn't get his way...but he cannot do any of those things.
Rocky came to this family off the street, and made us his, to rule over for the last fifteen years or so. He made me a dog person, kicking and screaming, and made me fall in love with him, just with one of those stares from soulful, almost human eyes. Yet, for all the love he gave me, for all the times he looked at me, and made me smile, I am helpless...
Tomorrow morning, we will be taking him to the vet, and I will say my last goodbyes to my friend. I will miss him, and I know I will see him again someday.
I love you Rocky.
