Last weekend, my dog passed away. It isn't really travel related, but I thought I should write something about him in any case.
As a child, I loved animals. My dad grew up on a farm, so he loved animals too, and the two of us would bring home random animals and my mom would get angry, but then accept that they were part of the family and give them a Chinese name in addition to their English one. Throughout my life, I have had hamsters, fish, guinea pigs, birds, hermit crabs, a turtle, a rabbit, and finally, two dogs. We got my dog Rocky in high school, out of a whim. We were in a mall, and I saw a little black dog in the pet store. A friend of mine said that statistically, black dogs are bought and adopted less, because people tend to prefer white or light colored dogs. I don't know if that is actually true, but in any case I loved Rocky right away. He was fluffy and had no tail (it might have been cropped). I normally don't do this, but I asked the pet store owner if we could play with it. My dad was with us, so he said yes. My mom said, "that's not a dog, that's a cat." He was so cute, only two pounds at the time. I didn't think we would be able to take him home, even though my dad and I both really liked him. However, my brother, who for a long time was against having dogs because he "didn't like dog poop," said he wanted it too. Since my mom has a special soft spot for my brother, she agreed.
We took him home, and set up a space for him in the kitchen. As it turned out, he is a dog that gets scared really easily, and hates to be at home by himself. We ended up getting a second dog to keep him company. It's too bad that they didn't get along that well, but I think he was a lot better with another soul in the house. Later in life, when we moved to San Francisco, we moved the dogs one by one. He spent some time alone while my dad was at work, and when he came back, he found that the door had been destroyed from Rocky scratching it. In addition to being alone, Rocky was really afraid of high pitched noises, and the crackling sound of the fireplace. When we started using our fireplace, he would be in the other room, huddled against our pet rabbit for protection. He became really scared of flies, because we had an electric fly swatter. The noise scared him for some reason, and he began to associate the buzzing of flies with that noise, even after we stopped using the electronic fly swatter. He would hide and shiver whenever he heard a fly, and someone would have to wrap a blanket around him and hold him. My mom said, "people love pets because they make you feel important. You feel special because they depend on you to protect them from stupid things."
I had been read somewhere that we should all treat our partners with the same forgiveness that we treat our pets. Our love for our pets is not conditioned on good behavior, and we are so tolerant of their mistakes--we don't refuse to pet them because they tore up our shoes, for example. Rocky used to get car sick, and throw up when we went for rides; once he threw up in my brother's lap, and for a long time my brother proclaimed that he did not like Rocky because of that incident (I think Rocky might have also pooped in his room).
The vet said that Rocky would grow up to be 10 pounds, but he ended up being about 30. Our theory is that maybe he was not treated well--we found out that he came from a puppy farm. I am so happy that we have Rocky, but I will think very carefully about where I get dogs, if I do get dogs again, in the future. His fear of certain things, and also how he was so skinny when we got him, led us to believe that perhaps he did not have a good life where he had been raised. In any case, Rocky was on diet dog food for most of his life, because of his weight. He would eat everything--orange peels, random bugs, poop, grass..once he ate a banana slug, and the slime was all over his face. He used to like to roll around in stinky things too, and he would wipe his face on the carpet in my parents' room.
I had been devastated because I had loved Rocky so much, but my mom fed him some sausages and after that my mom was always #1, and the rest of us were probably tied in some second category. Perhaps my dad was promoted later, since they hang out a lot. He would hang out in the kitchen while anyone cooked, and gobble up any food that was dropped. It was convenient in the sense that we never had to clean anything up. Unfortunately, he also got diabetes later. After he went on insulin, he lost a lot of weight and became quite bony.
Initially, he didn't like going for walks, but he also doesn't like to be left behind. Our second dog loved walks, so he would always go. Towards the end of his life, he was blind and couldn't go out, but whenever I came home, he would want to come when I took a walk with Sandy, our other dog. He would walk very slowly, and sometimes he would fall off the curb if I got distracted and wasn't watching him. His head got a lot dirtier because he would crash into things around the house because he was blind.
Since he was half Lhasa Apso, he was accustomed to colder temperatures and very sensitive to the heat. During the summer, he would drool a lot. He didn't like to be out during the day because his black fur would heat up, so we usually walked at night. There were a few times when I took him out around noon, and it was quite bad--he would have to find a shady spot and just lie there, drooling. At night, he would sleep in my parents' bathroom, on the tiles because it is cooler there. He was punctual too. At around 9:30 every night, he would head into my parents' bedroom by himself, and go to sleep. When he passed away, he also went into my parents' bedroom, and that was where he died.
He was such a good dog. He rarely barked--for a long time I thought he didn't know how to. He never bit anyone, and he was so nice to our other dog, Sandy, and our rabbit, Flora, even though both of them were not so nice to him. He had such a sweet personality, a good temper, and was so easy going. He had been part of my life for so long, that it's hard to imagine home without him there too.
As a child, I loved animals. My dad grew up on a farm, so he loved animals too, and the two of us would bring home random animals and my mom would get angry, but then accept that they were part of the family and give them a Chinese name in addition to their English one. Throughout my life, I have had hamsters, fish, guinea pigs, birds, hermit crabs, a turtle, a rabbit, and finally, two dogs. We got my dog Rocky in high school, out of a whim. We were in a mall, and I saw a little black dog in the pet store. A friend of mine said that statistically, black dogs are bought and adopted less, because people tend to prefer white or light colored dogs. I don't know if that is actually true, but in any case I loved Rocky right away. He was fluffy and had no tail (it might have been cropped). I normally don't do this, but I asked the pet store owner if we could play with it. My dad was with us, so he said yes. My mom said, "that's not a dog, that's a cat." He was so cute, only two pounds at the time. I didn't think we would be able to take him home, even though my dad and I both really liked him. However, my brother, who for a long time was against having dogs because he "didn't like dog poop," said he wanted it too. Since my mom has a special soft spot for my brother, she agreed.
We took him home, and set up a space for him in the kitchen. As it turned out, he is a dog that gets scared really easily, and hates to be at home by himself. We ended up getting a second dog to keep him company. It's too bad that they didn't get along that well, but I think he was a lot better with another soul in the house. Later in life, when we moved to San Francisco, we moved the dogs one by one. He spent some time alone while my dad was at work, and when he came back, he found that the door had been destroyed from Rocky scratching it. In addition to being alone, Rocky was really afraid of high pitched noises, and the crackling sound of the fireplace. When we started using our fireplace, he would be in the other room, huddled against our pet rabbit for protection. He became really scared of flies, because we had an electric fly swatter. The noise scared him for some reason, and he began to associate the buzzing of flies with that noise, even after we stopped using the electronic fly swatter. He would hide and shiver whenever he heard a fly, and someone would have to wrap a blanket around him and hold him. My mom said, "people love pets because they make you feel important. You feel special because they depend on you to protect them from stupid things."
I had been read somewhere that we should all treat our partners with the same forgiveness that we treat our pets. Our love for our pets is not conditioned on good behavior, and we are so tolerant of their mistakes--we don't refuse to pet them because they tore up our shoes, for example. Rocky used to get car sick, and throw up when we went for rides; once he threw up in my brother's lap, and for a long time my brother proclaimed that he did not like Rocky because of that incident (I think Rocky might have also pooped in his room).
The vet said that Rocky would grow up to be 10 pounds, but he ended up being about 30. Our theory is that maybe he was not treated well--we found out that he came from a puppy farm. I am so happy that we have Rocky, but I will think very carefully about where I get dogs, if I do get dogs again, in the future. His fear of certain things, and also how he was so skinny when we got him, led us to believe that perhaps he did not have a good life where he had been raised. In any case, Rocky was on diet dog food for most of his life, because of his weight. He would eat everything--orange peels, random bugs, poop, grass..once he ate a banana slug, and the slime was all over his face. He used to like to roll around in stinky things too, and he would wipe his face on the carpet in my parents' room.
I had been devastated because I had loved Rocky so much, but my mom fed him some sausages and after that my mom was always #1, and the rest of us were probably tied in some second category. Perhaps my dad was promoted later, since they hang out a lot. He would hang out in the kitchen while anyone cooked, and gobble up any food that was dropped. It was convenient in the sense that we never had to clean anything up. Unfortunately, he also got diabetes later. After he went on insulin, he lost a lot of weight and became quite bony.
Initially, he didn't like going for walks, but he also doesn't like to be left behind. Our second dog loved walks, so he would always go. Towards the end of his life, he was blind and couldn't go out, but whenever I came home, he would want to come when I took a walk with Sandy, our other dog. He would walk very slowly, and sometimes he would fall off the curb if I got distracted and wasn't watching him. His head got a lot dirtier because he would crash into things around the house because he was blind.
Since he was half Lhasa Apso, he was accustomed to colder temperatures and very sensitive to the heat. During the summer, he would drool a lot. He didn't like to be out during the day because his black fur would heat up, so we usually walked at night. There were a few times when I took him out around noon, and it was quite bad--he would have to find a shady spot and just lie there, drooling. At night, he would sleep in my parents' bathroom, on the tiles because it is cooler there. He was punctual too. At around 9:30 every night, he would head into my parents' bedroom by himself, and go to sleep. When he passed away, he also went into my parents' bedroom, and that was where he died.
He was such a good dog. He rarely barked--for a long time I thought he didn't know how to. He never bit anyone, and he was so nice to our other dog, Sandy, and our rabbit, Flora, even though both of them were not so nice to him. He had such a sweet personality, a good temper, and was so easy going. He had been part of my life for so long, that it's hard to imagine home without him there too.
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