Thankful #1. Rocky.

(As today is November 1st, I'm starting my own "thankful" exercise to last until Thanksgiving. Every year I say I'm going to do this, but I don't. I'm a very thankful person in general, so all month, I will be expressing my gratitude). 

When I was seventeen, the Papapietro family got our first dog. And this wasn't your normal excursion to the breeder or a pound. Our neighbor's Golden Retriever became pregnant just as she turned a year old (woops). In October of 2008, Rocky came into the world. My brother was at the neighbor's house just as the birthing process was complete. In that sense, Rocky has been ours since day one. 

I still call Rocky my puppy. He's a teenager now (actually, probably in his 20s. I'm not good with dog years as they involve math). The point is, he is still as playful and free-spirited as the day he came home. 

And by playful, we're talking playful on crack. If anyone reading has ever had the pleasure of entering my home during these recent Rocky years, you have likely been greeted by an eighty-pound black furry creature. Actually, "greeted" is probably the wrong word here. More likely, you were nearly knocked to the ground by said creature and his licking. 

Rocky doesn't discriminate. He gives you his full attention, whoever you are. The second he sees you smiling at him, he will (in this order): perk his ears, run to the nearest toy (likely a stuffed animal minus the stuffing) and place it at your feet. I've never met a dog with a stamina like Rocky's. "Catch" could last for hours. 

I know I describe some of Rocky's traits as if he was almost human. Human or not, my family would not be complete without him. 

Today during a phone call with my mom, I learned that Rocky had a severe seizure last last night. Unfortunately my brother, awake with a stomachache courtesy of excessive amounts of Halloween candy, had to witness the episode. My mom explained her helplessness as she watched Rocky crash into objects, banging his head on the floor.  (Note: He is completely fine today. Ate his dinner, played outside. Chewed up another toy). 

Sometimes, I think about why I feel so attached to Rocky. And it doesn't take me long to figure it out. It's unconditional love.

All I have to do is think back to a day almost two years ago now. On this day, the weight of what felt like a thousand worlds on my shoulders, I sat on the floor of my empty house and cried. 

And then...the patter of feet.

Rocky, who had been napping in another room, must have heard me. He wandered over, eyes wide. As I continued to sniffle, I was moved as this dog scooted next to me, collapsed his body to the ground, and rested his head in my lap. He continued to watch over me as I released my bottled-up tension and sadness. In this moment, Rocky was my guardian. And I felt safe. 

I talked to Rocky like I would talk to God. I just spilled it out. Gave it all to him. And what did he do?

He listened.