It was the day before I was to turn 42, March 24, 2007.  Tom had already said he had a birthday present for me.  I'd argued with him that we had enough pets.  I had a beagle and three cats, I couldn't take care of another dog.  Dogs required walking, feeding, work.  Especially one that was in the 50 pound range.


"I know, but he's won my heart.  Maybe we could foster him until we find him a permanent home."  Tom NEVER wants pets.  Ever.  So, I grudgingly allowed this dog to come to my house.


When our van pulled into the driveway, Tom jumped out and there, on a leash, was a beautiful dog with the biggest smile I'd ever seen on a pooch. He was white, with mottled black spots, black ears, and the cutest mohawk of fur on his nose.  The vet said her best guess was he was about a year old. And, an Australian Cattle Dog mix.  And, his name was Rocky.


I didn't like the name, chosen by the person on whose doorstep he appeared.  But, it seemed to fit.  He ran up to me, begging me to pet him.  And, so began a love affair that was to last for the next four plus years.


He was never an easy dog to own.  He loved to get out and run and would jump fences, bolt through open doors, pull off his run.  We got in our car and went after him, more times than I care to count.  But he always recognized my car and came running after it and would jump through the window if I didn't open the door quickly enough.


We thought about giving him away numerous times.  But we kept him for one simple reason:  he loved us without condition.  He was honestly the sweetest dog I've ever met in my life.  Each one of us secretly felt we were his favorite human alive. That was his gift to us.


When he came into my life I was struggling emotionally.  Spiritually.  I  really had few friends and was in an environment that was hostile and judgmental.  Yet each day, Rocky would see me, wag his tail and run to me, grateful to God that he got to be with me again.  He would jump on my lap and go to sleep, all 6o plus pounds of him, thinking he was a lap dog.  He loved to roll over on his back and let Tom scratch his belly for hours.  If I would quit petting him, he would keep head butting me for more attention.  I often wondered how many hours at a time he'd let me pet him!


The two of us used to walk nightly.  It was our time to be together, let the dust settle, and just be a part of God's creation.  Sometimes I'd talk to him.  Sometimes I'd pray silently.  Sometimes, we'd just enjoy being together. 


Every time he got out and took off we would find him or he'd find his way home.  Until the night of June the 7th.  


He never came home.  We kept looking and put up posters, ads in the paper, everything we could possibly do.  And we prayed for our 5 year old dog that was such a part of our lives.


Yesterday we found out he had died.  Within about three-tenths of a mile of our home.  But, after being gone, he'd found his way back and almost made it home.  


I have no idea why it's happened.  My logical mind says that in the two years we've lived here there have been more missing dogs and cats in our neighborhood than you can imagine~we're surrounded by a lot of heavily wooded areas where animals can truly get lost.  But it still doesn't answer the questions that will never fully be known.


Rocky, goodbye.  I loved you more than I ever thought it possible to love a four legged creature.  Your gift to me was that you thought I was perfect.  Thanks for your ministry to me from the bottom of my heart.  I love you.