Beyond Fiction

It’s getting close to the deadline for the Carnival Of Genealogy and I wanted to try to make sure that I got a little story in about my favorite pet of all, Rocky! Please bear with me as I write this as I am a little inebriated at the moment! (Good times at the baby shower tonight!)

Rocky was given to us by my Aunt Ellen & Uncle Bert (I believe) and was a great little dog. I think the only real problem we ever had with him was that he was afraid of storms. If I recall right, he had been left outside during a tornado when he was a puppy and was terrified of any thunderstorm. He would scratch at the front door until his little paws would give out and once or twice he actually made it all the way through the door!

My two older brothers were Rocky’s primary “masters” but when they grew up and moved out Rocky became my good friend. He would go with me everywhere I went. He was afraid of nothing (other than thunderstorms) and would do anything to protect me. I remember one time that he took on 3 German shepherds while I took off running. He came home all beat up but he still watched out for me!

Rocky was also a very strange dog! He had a strange way with cats. Don’t ask me how he did it because I never figured it out but I remember so vividly coming outside and seeing Rocky sitting in the front yard just like always except for his rear end. It would be moving crazily and you couldn’t help but wonder what was up! Strangely, every time there would be a cat underneath him! It’s like he would fight with a cat and then sit on it! I don’t know if he was trying to smother it or if he was just showing the cat how dominant he was! Either way it was a strange site!

We also loved to torment poor Rocky. We would call him to us by saying, “Come here, Rocky, come here!” and he would come up to you and we would keep saying it as if we didn’t notice him. After a few moments of this he would just start howling as loud as he could. We were so mean, weren’t we?

I also remember another time when my dad was upset with Rocky because he had tore through a door scratching it during a storm and he put him in the truck and drove to the Devil’s Bowl Speedway and dumped him out in the country. It was probably about 20 miles or so from home. I was so heartbroken. I cried a lot. A few weeks later we were surprised to see little Rocky pulling himself up the street. He was in pretty bad shape but he had fought his way home and was back with us again. My dad could never bring himself to do that ever again.

Sadly, one night during a storm, my sister and I locked Rocky in one of the cars in our back yard so that he wouldn’t tear up the door. However, we forgot to crack the windows like we normally would. We got up the next morning and went to school and it wasn’t until that afternoon that we remembered him.

It was way too late!

Our friend and my companion was gone! My dad once again drove out to Devil’s Bowl Speedway to drop Rocky off, but this time it was for good! I cried and cried and cried and I believe I even saw my daddy cry that night! How sad it was.

I’ll never forget ol’ Rocky and I’ve never had a pet that I was as close to since.

Picture #1 - Rocky and my brother Charles.

Picture #2 - Rocky and my brother Robert.

I wish I had a picture of myself and Rocky but unfortunately I can’t find one!