Sometimes it's hard to focus on knitting

Last night our family dog passed away.  We were lucky that the entire family was able to gather on short notice to say good-bye, even though I doubt Rocky really knew what was happening.  We were also lucky that his system failure occurred so quickly that he didn't have a long painful end.

My husband and I went out to dinner on March 1, 1995 and came home with Rocky (totally shocked the babysitter).  An animal rescue group happened to be in a storefront near the restaurant, and a worker there convinced us to "just try taking him for a little walk on this leash".  We were instantly smitten with this little (~15 lb.) guy of indeterminate age and parentage and brought him home to be "Alex's dog".

We found out from the vet that he was at least one year old and was most likely a Sheltie/Jack Russell mix.  His fur and coloring were more Sheltie-like and his personality was pure Jack Russell.

Owning Rocky was like having a bright, inquisitive, mischievous, non-verbal three year old in the house for most of the 17 years we had him.  He was playful, affectionate, and everyone who knew him very well fell in love with him (including our vet and the staff at the kennel he went to when we were on vacation).  He slowed down quite a bit in his last year (and started to develop bald spots), but still enjoyed children and food.

This picture was taken less than a year ago, I think.  Pretty good looking for an old guy, wouldn't you say?

Rocky 1994(?)-2012