The World is a Lesser Place Tonight

I just found out that the world, or at least a small piece of it, lost a great friend this afternoon. The loss is not a Nobel Laureate, a rocket scientist, nor even a great medical practitioner, but of a small, furry tan and white, turned almost completely white in later life, Jack Russell terrier named Rocky.

Almost eighteen years ago, Rocky came into the world at the foot of my bed in a small kiddie pool, the product of the union of Gus and Minnie. With Rocky came his sister, who would come to be known as Little Nell. She was a slightly darker caramel brown and white little beast with a beautiful little black face. One day one of my nearest, dearest and most trusted friends saw the two of them playing in the back yard, and being in the market for a dog, and knowing that the two, who played as one but being in separate bodies, could not be separated from one another, took them both home to be part of his family.

Now, it is an interesting thing about Jack Russel terriers, they do not really have owners and certainly do not have "masters." Jack Russels are dogs that have "staff" members, and Little Nell and Gus were no different. In fact they may have taken this concept to a logical hyperbole, for they spent their lives being doted upon. Gus and Nell became well known at some of the better restaurants in and around Winter Park, FL, for they were never to be left at home. My friend and his significant other took them everywhere. Yes, they were like children, but even more demanding.

Several years ago, Nell left us as a result of a rare canine disease that took her after a rather hard fought, and no less expensive, fight with the disease. She died having gotten the best of care and no less love than a dog has ever had and she is still missed to this day. Her brother, Rocky, remained, bewildered for a while and missing his sister, but like all if us he moved on. He remained a dog of high expectations (demanding is not exactly the right term). He expected his staff to take very good care of him. It was just his right. He never had to demand it, he just expected it and his expectations never went unmet.

Now Rocky gave at least as good as he got. He was as loyal a dog as a person could have. He was always well behaved in public and would have been impressive in white tie and tails (pardon the obvious pun) at a social evening at The Breakers on Palm Beach. But his best and most impressive moments were as "Nurse Rocky." My friend's life partner had a stroke several years ago as well as several other medical issues with her brain that affected her cognitive abilities. Rocky became her constant companion and protector. He would rouse her in the morning, walk with her during the day and bark when something was wrong, something he reserved for only the more desperate of times, but his best attribute was just to be there for her. He presented himself for petting regularly, letting her know that she was not alone and slept with the two of them each and every night. In later years, as old age crept up on Rocky, my friend built a ramp at the foot of the bed so Rocky could maintain his dignity and climb up onto the bed when he could no longer jump. It was far beneath his dignity to be lifted into the bed. When my friend was away, Rocky was his partner's constant companion. Were that something happened, I have no doubt that this little dog would somehow have dialed 911 on the telephone. While the term was, no doubt, beneath Rocky, he was a great "service dog."

As for everyone, dogs and humans alike, time marches forward, and takes it toll on us all. Rocky became in his old age an almost ghostly white color, just not quite right for him as the rich tan and clearly defined white patches of his youth. He lost his hearing and most of his sight. He would still follow my friends around the house and was always willing to go for a walk, at least partially around the block, but now the pace was slower and there was a lot more sniffing and investigating than tugging at the leash as if in a hurry to get somewhere. More often than not, the walk ended when only a half or quarter trip around the block had been completed.

In past weeks, Rocky became lethargic and his appetite failed him. The veterinarian found a mass in his abdomen and the prognosis was not good, but some shots and a change of food seemed to bring the old "Rock Star" back to us for a while, but it was a temporary fix at best. Rocky had gotten his "Mistress" through her stroke and the long recovery and he had gotten his "Master" through a heart surgery and the recovery from that. He had done his all and given his all, out of love and respect and gratitude, but he was tired and his time was soon to come.

Several days ago, Rocky could no longer bring himself to eat and he slowly began that slide to what awaits us all. As my friend said so eloquently the doctor "gave him grace this afternoon." A finer beast will never inhabit the Earth and "grace" was not really given him, but was his due. He had earned it and deserved it more than most. Rocky will be missed and will remain alive in our memories and in our hearts, but the world is just a little bit of a lesser place tonight for his loss.