Rocky was my brother's dog. For 13 years. Probably the most important relationship in each other's lives. They loved each other, took care of each other, and were there for each other through the course of ups and downs where life naturally leads.
But life's journey always ends and even in that, they were together.
He was named for the Rocky Mountains, aside which he lived with his owner. Sometimes in small apartments. Sometimes on properties with lots of land where Rocky could roam and play, and take care of his people and animal friends. He watched over horses and took naps with the barn cat.
They hiked and fished and travelled as far as Boston.
His absence leaves an aching hole in my brother's heart. Rocky had a good life and my brother's life was enriched by it.
Rocky will be missed.