Rocky

Rocky was my dog. He died this morning. I feel like I need to write him an ode or something to honor the time I shared with him. He was my best friend for around 14 years. He loved the beach as much as I did and was always my guard dog. He loved to dig holes, play softball, and travel. He always asked to go outside and he never ran away. He was perfect. They say a dog is a man's best friend, but I think it goes both ways.
This photo was taking while camping a couple years ago. I was down at the beach skim boarding and he was whining because he couldn't see me. So, Ali put him up on the table so he could keep an eye on me.

I'm sorry he's gone but I know it was his time. I feel terrible for being glad that I wasn't there, but seeing him would have made me fall apart. I also know that my mom and dad are probably very sad too and I hate to see them cry. Is it bad that I don't want to be there for them? Death is such a strange thing, even the non-human kind. What an empty feeling it leaves with one.

I have a feeling I will be particularly lonely this summer minus two best friends. I'm sure I will be fine, but for now I am sad.