It feels stupid. We all knew it was coming, he’d lived a long life and was obviously deteriorating quite quickly, and, ultimately, he was just a dog. It’s not like you could actually have an emotional connection with an animal that you’re completely unable to communicate with, surely? Why do I feel so fucking sad?
When I actually take a step back and think about it, I realise that he probably knew more about me than any human being on the planet. I shared things with him I’ve never shared with anyone else and he saw me in states that no one except my Mother has seen me in. He watched me grow from a boy into a man and provided me with endless love throughout the entire process, standing by my side waiting for a fuss no matter what I was going through or dealing with. It’s incredible to think just how different the Harold that held him as he left us on that awful Monday night is to the Harry that held him as we brought him home fourteen years ago.
Every time I came in from a night out I would spend five minutes cuddling with him on the kitchen floor or the landing before I flopped into bed and passed out. I was going through my pictures on the night it happened and I found a video of Kiera from years ago, pissed up, feeding him treats in the kitchen at 12.30am and making a huge fuss of him. It hurts me to know how much he was loved not just by me, but by my friends and family too. I’d sit and tell him about how my night went, who I’d been with and countless drunk thoughts which, if any human heard them, would probably get me sent away to an asylum.
I sit crying now as I write this which makes it even worse because I know if he was here and he heard my crying he’d come bounding into the room to make sure I was ok. He always seemed to have a sense for that type of thing, if he ever heard me crying he wouldn’t come in and make a big deal of it, he’d just sort of wander in and put his head on my knee or in my hands, as if to reassure me that he was there for me.
As I knew it was nearing the end I would go out of my way to be around him more. If I was going upstairs for something and he was lying on the landing, I’d get down and lie with him for a few minutes before carrying on with whatever I was doing. If I walked into the back room and he was asleep in his bed I’d just stand and watch him for 30 seconds before I got what I needed and walked out again, trying my hardest not to wake him. When I would wake up at 6am to go to the gym I’d go and find wherever he was sleeping and make sure he was still breathing before I left to start my day. When Hayley and I would be sitting watching the golf in the evening and he wandered in every hour or so to see what we were up to, we’d encourage him up onto the sofa for hugs and kisses, both knowing without saying that we were enjoying our last moments with him.
I’m so glad I’ve been working from home recently because the pleasure it gives me knowing he didn’t spend his last few months alone is irreplaceable. I’ve lost count of the amount of times he wandered into the living room and jumped up onto the sofa as I was in the middle of a zoom meeting. It’s hard to remain looking professional whilst you’re trying to stop your dog from getting into the camera shot and licking your face. Was he interested in a fuss whilst I wasn’t in a meeting, though? Was he buggery. If I was working in the living room he’d be in the kitchen, if I was in the kitchen he’d be upstairs and if I was upstairs he’d be in the back room, but as soon as I joined a meeting? He was there as if he’d been invited to it himself.
The house feels so empty without him. Mum keeps leaving the TV on in the kitchen because she can’t stand how quiet it seems. I think we both vastly underestimated how much comfort it provided us knowing that, even if one of us was out, we were never truly alone. Even if he didn’t come in to check on you, you’d hear the patter of his paws on the lino as he wandered through the hallway to go upstairs for a nap on one of our beds, or you’d hear the thud from upstairs as he jumped off one bed to go and lie on the other.
It’s the little things that I already miss the most. “Do you need anything from Tesco Rocks?” I’d ask as I gave him a pat on the head before wandering over to the shops. “Come on fatty it’s breakfast time” as Mum sliced up his eggs on toast for him (she spoiled him a little bit in his old age). “Me and Rocks have had a lovely day thanks” as Hayley got back from work and asked how my day had been. Even when Mum fed him he would always come and give me a fuss once he’d finished eating, as if to say thank you, and Mum would call him an ungrateful bastard. Then again, he’d always come and force me to let him out for a piss too, even when Donna was literally sitting in the kitchen about 3ft away from the back door.
When he flashes up on my timehop now, I think about the times he made me happy. When I used to come back from University for the weekend, he would bound around the house in excitement. When I used to get his lead out of the cupboard for a walk and it was always impossible to put it on him because he wouldn’t stop jumping around in excitement. When he would inevitably escape from one of my house parties and I’d send out a search party of a dozen drunk teenagers, or when we’d decide in our drunken geniusness that it was a great idea to take him on a walk at 3am and he’d happily come for a wander with us, excited because of all the fuss. When I’d walk into my bedroom and he’d be fast asleep on my pillow or sat staring out of my window into the garden. When he would jump up onto the top of the sofa and rest his head on your head, or when I would give Mum a hug and he’d try to get in the middle of us because he was the mardiest dog you’d ever meet. When he would run around the house jumping off all the furniture during one of his “mad five minutes”. When he decided to just sit with me for a bit, his head in my lap, and I’d just sit there, smiling.
It’s hard to overstate just how significant a role this dog played in my life. It feels like I’ve lost my best friend. The house feels empty and so do I. I’ll miss you, Rocky.
