RIP

Rocky was put to sleep last night, rather unexpectedly, although he was very old (91 in human years)!  I found myself crying more at the pathos of the scene in which everyone else was sobbing, then because of direct grief.  I was never overly attached to Rocky when my mom was alive, and less so since he lived with Linda.  Sapphire's death was different; she still sort of felt like "my" pet by extension, since I saw her so much, and she always seemed so happy to see me.  Linda and Gary are really taking it hard, especially since they had virtually no time to prepare.

It's weird to think that it was my mom's death that brought Rocky into Linda's life--and they had him for so much longer than my mom did, or even Jane, his first owner.  I realized on the ride home that the last time I ever saw my mom was in Rocky's company.  She came down to school in the beginning of September that year, to lend us her nicer vacuum and to drop off whatever I'd forgotten. I can remember exactly where her van was parked, on the one-way road past our townhouse block.  Rocky was on his little purple leash, and we left him in the house while she took us all grocery shopping.  She had also brought a tray of pumpkin squares with cream cheese frosting, which were delicious, and as we stood around in Townhouse 31 eating them, she mentioned there having been a small accident on the stairs in the house with some cream cheese.  True to form, when I got home the night of her death a few weeks later, there was a big smudge on the carpet!  And there was Rocky, completely unaware that his human wasn't coming back.

Sean and I joked about Rocky showing up in heaven and seeing my parents, and my dad looking at Rocky and saying "so this is the little bastard who got to sleep on my pillow?"  Poor JTD--all he ever wanted was a big, manly dog (well, and a boat).  Then he dies, and his wife gets two frou-frou dogs in succession!  I don't actually believe in heaven, of course, but it's still nice to picture it.