As our home town is consumed with thoughts of the greatest two minutes in sports, horse racing brings to mind the story of the day Rocko met a horse.
For those of you who haven’t met Rocko, he is mean. Might as well get that out up front. I’ve seen this syndrome on television -when an animal is badly abused and finds its forever home, the natural instinct is to protect that home. Rocko fits that profile to an extreme. Three people are able to walk into our home, the rest must be dissuaded from their evil intentions by loud barks and lots of teeth. Its not a show, he is absolutely serious that no one will enter. (note: If you haven’t read Rocko’s Story, go back to our home page and click on the button)
When we lived in the suburbs, Rocko liked to sit on the front porch and watch the world go by. To keep him safe he was on a chain. When someone would enter the yard he would stand and bark, alerting us to the presence of both friends and potential serial killers.
All was well until the day someone decided to ride a horse down the street. This was something he had never encountered before and it was obvious that whatever this thing was it meant danger to his family. His chain snapped as he ran to the edge of the street barking, determined to keep that horrible monster as far away as possible.
He didn’t cross his property line and the horse didn’t react so no real harm was done - except Rocko lost his porch privileges. We invested in a full view storm door so he could sit and watch through the glass, still his favorite spot even in a new locale.
If you catch a glimpse of the horses running the first Saturday in May, think about a dog so loyal and loving that he would stand his ground against an animal ten times his size.
That’s my boy and one of the many reasons I love him.
With his family safe for the night, it's time for Rocko to snuggle down in his bed.