It was 14 years ago when we brought Roscoe home. He was a pure bred Sharpei and the pick of the litter for the family that provided the stud. Jet black and a fiesty pup. When our son, now 11, started talking he couldn't say Roscoe and it came out Gocko so the new name stuck.
He and I co-existed in the pack, neither quite sure who owned the title of Alpha Male. He certainly wouldn't relinquish that title to me, nor I to him. Nevertheless, we became very close friends. He never liked being touched much and a scratch on the top of the head was about all he would tolerate. He accepted that as his reward for being the best guard dog. And there was never a better guard dog. He took that responsibility very seriously; day and night. He didn't care for chasing balls or sticks. After the puppy stage he never played like other dogs. Gocko guarded. He watched out the windows for hours, pacing upstairs, downstairs, back door, front door.
Today was scheduled to be our last day together and it was my choice to be with him. We got up very early this morning to spend some quality time together. 8:45 seems like a long way off. Gocko loves riding in the Cruiser and sticking his nose and head out the sliding rear windows. It's been several years since he could jump in the truck so I built him a folding ramp to spare him the indignity of being picked up. This also saved me from his wrath because he hated being picked up. We call it the doggy wheelchair ramp. So we get loaded up and drop Ross off at school at 7AM. Ross gets to say a final goodbye in the school parking lot as he wipes away the tears; he can't let the other 6th graders seem him crying.
The bright New Mexico sun is still behind the mountains but we can tell it's a beautiful clear morning and we want to enjoy it together. I chose a spot in the foothills where we've gone many times before. There's a Starbucks on the way so I pull in to get some coffee. In the past there would be plenty of barking to tip off the staff that there was a dog in the vehicle. They would always offer up a doggie treat and Gocko knew where we were and would patiently wait for his treat. Today he was quiet so as I approached the window I had to ask for a doggie treat. A tear welled up and I choked up for a second. She looked at me strangely and handed me my latte and 2 treats. As I pulled out of the parking lot the emotions hit me like a whack upside the head with a cricket bat. I pulled to the side of the road and cried... it was one of those heaving, sobbing, cries like when you've lost a close friend or relative. You know what I mean.
After I got myself composed we headed off for our spot. In the past, we would hop out of the truck and go for a nice long walk. I lifted the Cruiser's upper tailgate and dropped the lower tailgate. Gocko looked a little puzzled as though he was thinking of jumping out of the truck but he knew he couldn't. I sat with him on in the back of the truck and we watched the sun come slowly up past the mountains. It's 8:07. I put his 2 treats on the tailgate and he came over and sniffed them. He looked at me with the look that says "I sure wish I felt like eating, but I don't." He hasn't eaten in 4 or 5 days. He sniffs them some more and then he goes back to looking for bad guys. Protecting me and the truck like he's done for 14 years.
At 8:14 a guy comes walking down the trail about 100 yards away. Gocko gets in a threatening stance and gives that non-verbal communcation that says stay away. The guy keeps coming but not too close. Gocko can't get a good bark out but he manages a muffled grunt that only I can hear. "Good puppy" I say while scratching him on the head. At 8:20 a lady drives up and gets out with a foofie dog. Some little 6" hairy thing. Gocko lost his hearing several years ago so he doesn't hear them and can't see them because they are behind us. As she comes walking by the truck (too close) he finally smells them and turns to look and warns them off with a real bark. It took some effort but he made them back off. Protecting me and the truck like he's done for 14 years.
It's 8:35 now and I know it's time to go. I think maybe we don't have to do this... but it has to be done.
Our last ride is over now and I'm here at home by myself. The sadness is overwhelming. Who is going to protect me and the family at night? Who is going to keep the bad guys out while we're gone? God I'm going to miss that dog.
-B-
He and I co-existed in the pack, neither quite sure who owned the title of Alpha Male. He certainly wouldn't relinquish that title to me, nor I to him. Nevertheless, we became very close friends. He never liked being touched much and a scratch on the top of the head was about all he would tolerate. He accepted that as his reward for being the best guard dog. And there was never a better guard dog. He took that responsibility very seriously; day and night. He didn't care for chasing balls or sticks. After the puppy stage he never played like other dogs. Gocko guarded. He watched out the windows for hours, pacing upstairs, downstairs, back door, front door.
Today was scheduled to be our last day together and it was my choice to be with him. We got up very early this morning to spend some quality time together. 8:45 seems like a long way off. Gocko loves riding in the Cruiser and sticking his nose and head out the sliding rear windows. It's been several years since he could jump in the truck so I built him a folding ramp to spare him the indignity of being picked up. This also saved me from his wrath because he hated being picked up. We call it the doggy wheelchair ramp. So we get loaded up and drop Ross off at school at 7AM. Ross gets to say a final goodbye in the school parking lot as he wipes away the tears; he can't let the other 6th graders seem him crying.
The bright New Mexico sun is still behind the mountains but we can tell it's a beautiful clear morning and we want to enjoy it together. I chose a spot in the foothills where we've gone many times before. There's a Starbucks on the way so I pull in to get some coffee. In the past there would be plenty of barking to tip off the staff that there was a dog in the vehicle. They would always offer up a doggie treat and Gocko knew where we were and would patiently wait for his treat. Today he was quiet so as I approached the window I had to ask for a doggie treat. A tear welled up and I choked up for a second. She looked at me strangely and handed me my latte and 2 treats. As I pulled out of the parking lot the emotions hit me like a whack upside the head with a cricket bat. I pulled to the side of the road and cried... it was one of those heaving, sobbing, cries like when you've lost a close friend or relative. You know what I mean.
After I got myself composed we headed off for our spot. In the past, we would hop out of the truck and go for a nice long walk. I lifted the Cruiser's upper tailgate and dropped the lower tailgate. Gocko looked a little puzzled as though he was thinking of jumping out of the truck but he knew he couldn't. I sat with him on in the back of the truck and we watched the sun come slowly up past the mountains. It's 8:07. I put his 2 treats on the tailgate and he came over and sniffed them. He looked at me with the look that says "I sure wish I felt like eating, but I don't." He hasn't eaten in 4 or 5 days. He sniffs them some more and then he goes back to looking for bad guys. Protecting me and the truck like he's done for 14 years.
At 8:14 a guy comes walking down the trail about 100 yards away. Gocko gets in a threatening stance and gives that non-verbal communcation that says stay away. The guy keeps coming but not too close. Gocko can't get a good bark out but he manages a muffled grunt that only I can hear. "Good puppy" I say while scratching him on the head. At 8:20 a lady drives up and gets out with a foofie dog. Some little 6" hairy thing. Gocko lost his hearing several years ago so he doesn't hear them and can't see them because they are behind us. As she comes walking by the truck (too close) he finally smells them and turns to look and warns them off with a real bark. It took some effort but he made them back off. Protecting me and the truck like he's done for 14 years.
It's 8:35 now and I know it's time to go. I think maybe we don't have to do this... but it has to be done.
Our last ride is over now and I'm here at home by myself. The sadness is overwhelming. Who is going to protect me and the family at night? Who is going to keep the bad guys out while we're gone? God I'm going to miss that dog.
-B-
