Rocco

Vignette about my dog, Rocco. R.I.P September 11, 2004. I love you Rocco.

 

            I woke up at 10 a.m. on a sunny Saturday morning.  I thought to myself ‘It’s the weekend and I've got no homework!  Yay!’  I got out of bed, got dressed, and brushed my teeth.  I looked into my sister, Angela’s, room but she wasn’t there.  I found her downstairs watching YU-GI-OH! on TV.  I looked around and asked Angela where mom and dad were.  She told me she didn’t know, and that they weren’t here when she came downstairs.  I looked on our refrigerator to see if they had left a note, but there wasn’t one.  The calendar caught my eye, and I saw that it was 9/11.  I was saddened for a moment for the people who died in the two towers incident.  I looked again for a note, found none, and decided to have some breakfast.  I had the Cheerios box in my hand when the phone rang. 

            I checked the Caller ID.  It was my dad’s cell phone.  I answered it and my dad was on the line.  He told me that something had happened, and by how his voice was faltering, I knew it was something really bad.  I hesitated a second, then asked him what happened.  As I asked him, I looked around and realized my dog, Rocco, wasn’t there.  Dad told me that earlier that morning, Rocco had collapsed on our driveway, and they took him to the vet.  Overwhelmed with this knowledge, I collapsed.  I sat there, slightly hysterical for a moment; I was on the floor sobbing with the phone and a box of Cheerios in my hands.

 I sat there with my back against the wall, barely hearing what my dad told me next.  When I had calmed down a little, my dad told me that Rocco was anemic, and that meant he was bleeding internally.  The vet entered the room they were in, so my dad said he’d call as soon as he knew anything.  He hung up, but still I sat there.  I couldn't move.  It felt as if the weight of depression was holding me down.  I tried not to cry anymore, but the tears wouldn’t be held back.  I cried my heart out.  I was feeling so many emotions that I couldn’t keep them straight:  anger, sadness, hate, rage, resentment, grief, misery; I was mortified.  I sat there crying silently.  Angela came up to me and asked what was wrong.  I told her.  She was extremely sad, but not crying.  I guess it’s because I was, and still am, more attached to him than Angela was.  He really was my best friend.  I put the Cheerios box away and went up to my room.  I needed to be alone.  I was so worried about Rocco. 

I sat on my bed and prayed for him.  I prayed to God to let Rocco be okay.  About ten nerve-racking minutes later, my dad called back.  I answered on the first ring.  He said to meet him out front and that he was going to pick us up.  I didn’t ask questions.  I got Angela to get dressed and we both waited out front. 

Our neighbor, Marie, saw us and we went over and told her what happened.  She was sad about it too.  Just then, my dad pulled the van into the cul-de-sac.  I opened the side door and Rocco was lying on the floor of the van.  He saw me and tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t.  He was too weak from blood loss.  Angela crawled carefully over him to her seat.  Seeing as my mom was in my seat, I had to sit in front. 

As soon as I closed the door, we took off.  We had to get to the pet hospital fast.  We turned onto the Elgin O’Hare Expressway.  The whole family was quietly crying.  In the background, I could hear Rocco’s breathing getting more and more shallow and labored.  That was the longest car ride of my life.  Not only because I was worried, but mostly because Rocco was uncomfortable.  I hated to see him like that. It really broke my heart.

We finally arrived at Schaumburg Animal Hospital.  My dad parked in the closest spot to the door and picked Rocco up.  I ran ahead and opened the door.  We entered the waiting room and the few people that were there looked on with slight concern.  The nurse brought out a gurney and my dad put Rocco on it.  He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He was too weak.  He knew something was wrong, and he didn’t understand why he was being taken away.  He wanted to get back to us.  They wheeled him through the doors that led to the back of the hospital.

We were then taken to a room. We waited for what seemed like an eternity.  After almost 10 long minutes, the doctor came in and said he did an ultrasound.  Rocco had a huge tumor in his abdomen.  It was growing and, because of its size, it could burst at any time.  If it were to burst, Rocco would be in excruciating pain.  We couldn’t let that happen.  The doctor also said that it was most likely malignant, and that if they did surgery, he would only live for two more months, and he’d be in pain from recovering from the surgery.  And there wasn’t a good chance of him even coming out of anesthesia.  Less than a 50% chance.  The odds were against us.  We had no choice but to have Rocco put to sleep.  It was the only humane thing to do. 

The nurse brought him in on the gurney.  That had to have been the hardest time in my short life, to see Rocco, my best friend, lying helpless on that gurney.  He was always running around and ready to play, and nothing could hold him down.  I burst into tears again and knelt down next to him.  I threw my arms around his neck and wept over him.  I just kept repeating ‘I love you, Rocco.  I love you.’  After almost five minutes I took off his collar and his bandanna and stood up.  The doctor went over to Rocco with the needle.  I will never forget the look Rocco gave me right before he closed his eyes for the last time.  It was a look of peace and complete understanding and love.  He knew we all loved him and that this was for the best, and I knew that he loved us too.  He’d had a good life; he was loved and taken care of.  And most of all, he had a family that truly cared about him.  The doctor injected him and Rocco stopped breathing almost instantly.  I broke down and hugged him again, whispering ‘No…I want him back.  I want my dog back…’

We drove home one family member less.  Everyone was quiet.  All of us were stunned at what just happened.  We really didn’t want to believe that he was gone.  But we knew there was nothing we could do.  Rocco was in a better place now.

Everyone says that all things happen for a reason.  Well I still can’t think of a reason for Rocco to have been taken away from me.  I guess the world is kind of like a book, with every living thing’s name on a page.  And when God turns the page and your name is there, then it’s your time and there’s nothing you can do.  But when Rocco died, a part of me died too; He took a piece of my heart with him and that can never be fixed.  Though the pain slightly lessens day by day, it never completely leaves me.  The sadness will eventually start to fade and I will only remember the good things.  But deep inside of me there will always be a place reserved solely for Rocco, for someday we will be reunited, and life as I used to know it, with my faithful Rocco by my side, will be a reality again.

 

Reviews

[Jade Mayhew]

Oh my god! I'm so so sorry about your dog! This brought me to tears! I had to put my cat down a few years ago, one that I'd had for years. I know how you feel. I'm sorry. :[