Dear Readers,
Another year has flown by and today I am writing again to say Happy Birthday to Rocky, our first pet. Rock was a year older than me, so he would be 26 this year. Which is such an unrealistic age for a dog (that’s 182 years old in dog years), but don’t you just wish that pets could live forever with you?
Like daemons in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, where your pet is actually your soul, and you both communicate and battle through life together.
And I never thought of Rocky as a pet, he was and is my big brother. It would be like, “Rocky!!! *pulling his tail*, let’s go to the playhouse and have some tea!!!” and he would sit next to me, with my dolls and keep me company.
Playing Dress up with Rocky
And there was one point where he was an obese monster (100 lbs?) because we fed him all the food we didn’t like secretly under the table. You wouldn’t believe his size for a Labrador Retriever. Imagine the dog’s version of a Biggest Loser candidate.
Jay and I attack Rock for a photo opt during his nap time!
And he travelled with us everywhere, flying to Montreal, and back to HK, back and forth twice. One summer we sent him to the equivalent of FAT CAMP, and he came back trim and fit as a whistle. He survived Heart Worm disease treatment. And enjoyed his life, keeping us company, watching us grow up and being our tag along friend.
We could pull his tail, even put Greg on his back (when Rocky was 10) so Greg could get a ride. I never showered him with kisses, (like I do with Perdy and Gizmo). Rocky would just walk over and slump his body against ours while watching TV, or if we were playing smurfs/GI Joes he would be the moutain our figurines would have to climb.
He was very very patient with us...
Sometimes I worry that I will forget about the times we had together. And as Perdy is approaching 12 (Her vet says she will be able to live until 16, despite her heart condition) deep down I’m really scared that Perdy is going to be just like Rocky, who was very activeand then suddenly old age hit him…and then he deteriorated practically overnight. 
When I was growing up, I calculated that the latest I could get married is 18, because Rock would be 19 by then, and MAYBE by some odd miraculous chance, he could attend my wedding. You know, he would be the Ring Bearer, with the ring pillow on his back. 
We all love and miss you Rocky, and you are always on our minds and in our hearts.
We really miss your prescence.
Happy Birthday to my big bro Rock!
Feeling incredibly sentimental,
Stacy
