Rocko’s life isn’t just about today and being an old boy. Our lives together are full of memories.
For the first year of his life with us (until he turned two), Rocko chewed everything. Countless remotes, houseplants, a section of carpet, the list goes on. One night as I was laying in bed suddenly the bed started shaking. I looked over the end and there was Rocko, bored, laying on his back chewing the end of the bed. The couch met the same fate, along with the rung of an antique rocking chair.
That might sound like a lot of destruction, but nothing tops the day he ate my shoes. ALL my shoes.
I accidentally left the closet door open when I left for work one day. The carnage was apparent the minute I opened the door that afternoon. Shoes were everywhere in various stages of annihilation. I had dozens of pairs of shoes and several pairs of favorite boots I had collected over the years. Gone. Every last one of them except for the shoes I had on my feet.
Since there’s no crying over chewed shoes, I changed out of my work clothes and began the process of disposing of the remains. After a few minutes I noticed Rocko was suspiciously absent. Hanging his head in shame? Hiding in a corner? No, not Rocko.
He was in the bedroom chewing up the only pair of shoes I had left.
Fast forward to me standing in the entrance to Walmart explaining why I had to come in barefoot. I had no shoes. Really, not one single pair left. How could I get more shoes if they didn’t let me come in barefoot? It took some convincing, but who could make up a story like that?
Eventually we loaded the house with rawhide chew toys. Our living room was dubbed the “Rawhide Wasteland”. Rocko learned to redirect his energy to rawhide instead of Mommy’s things.
But we still have fond memories of the day Rocko ate all my shoes.
We still have the rocking chair, every time I look at it I think of Rocko as a puppy.