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My neighbor Jim got a half-Rottweiler, half-Dalmatian puppy seven years ago. He looked just like a Rottweiler, though maybe a little thinner/less dense in the body. In temperament, he was all Dalmatian and very, very sweet. So sweet that when he got too bouncy with my Willi and Willi would nip at his flank, he never snapped back. Never even growled. Let's face it, Rocky could have eaten my little 20-pound dachshund if he wanted to.
When I came home from work last night, Jim and his partner Karen were outside with Rocky, and Jim told me that Rocky had cancer and that he was going to have to have him put to sleep. Rocky collapsed on a walk this weekend and was having trouble breathing so off to the vet (He has the same vet as Willi.) with him. They found out he was riddled with cancer, especially his lungs, and it was causing the breathing problem and blood clots. Rocky improved a little with some meds, but they knew it was temporary, and so Jim was going to have him put to sleep today.
I could tell as I was petting Rocky that he wasn't himself. His eyes were sad, tired, and there was a stillness to him that wasn't like him at all. He walked up the stairs so slowly, though Jim was set to carry him if need be.
When I got home tonight, Karen was pulling in, and she told me that Rocky died last night. Jim was sleeping with him in the living room, and when he woke up at 3:30 AM, Rocky was dead.
Seven years was way too short a time to have you around, Rock. Sleep well, big dog. Sleep well.
When I came home from work last night, Jim and his partner Karen were outside with Rocky, and Jim told me that Rocky had cancer and that he was going to have to have him put to sleep. Rocky collapsed on a walk this weekend and was having trouble breathing so off to the vet (He has the same vet as Willi.) with him. They found out he was riddled with cancer, especially his lungs, and it was causing the breathing problem and blood clots. Rocky improved a little with some meds, but they knew it was temporary, and so Jim was going to have him put to sleep today.
I could tell as I was petting Rocky that he wasn't himself. His eyes were sad, tired, and there was a stillness to him that wasn't like him at all. He walked up the stairs so slowly, though Jim was set to carry him if need be.
When I got home tonight, Karen was pulling in, and she told me that Rocky died last night. Jim was sleeping with him in the living room, and when he woke up at 3:30 AM, Rocky was dead.
Seven years was way too short a time to have you around, Rock. Sleep well, big dog. Sleep well.
