My dog, my world

I decided to dedicate a post to my dog, Rocky. He’s a 7-year-old Jack Russell Terrier. Rocky was six months old when I got him. I was in 5th class so I was 13. He was such a small little puppy. I remember I was crying over maths homework( I’m really bad at maths) and my parents had told me they were going shopping.

They pulled up in the car and I opened the sliding door to ask my dad could he help me with my homework. My mam opened the car door and in her arms was a small little dog. I was really shocked.

Rocky had a little tour of the house. He was kind of frightened obviously because he hadn’t a clue who we were. The people who gave him to us wanted to keep Rocky but he didn’t get on with their other dog so they had to give him away.

For a while, we wanted him to get used to his surroundings. We have a big back garden so he had plenty of space to run around. We had a cat at the time who used to stay on the windowsill but they couldn’t be left in the same room. However, they protected each other and were quite friendly.(Sadly the cat died a few years later). Sometimes when my mam opens the window to let the steam out, Rocky still looks up at the windowsill and barks.

After getting used to his surroundings, my dad and I took Rocky for a walk. Except Rocky hadn’t been taken for a walk before. While he was still a puppy he constantly pulled on the lead, hurting his neck in the process. My dad got him a harness to stop putting pressure on his neck which has worked wonders.

We also got a dog flap installed and I trained him to use it myself. He learnt how to use it within a week or two. Jack Russell Terriers are really smart so he picked it up fairly quickly. He also figured out how to open the door himself.

He has really good traits but also some fairly bad ones. We were told by the people who gave Rocky to us that as a pup he was abused by the owners and was going to be used just for breeding. Rocky still growls when you put your feet too near him. He can be pretty snappy, never with me but strangers. He acts like a tough guy around bigger dogs when in fact he’s terrified of the hoover and has regularly attempted to bite the wheels off of the lawnmower.

He’s getting older but he’s still my rock, my buddie, my baby( I know but like who doesn’t tell your dog you’ll be back soon when you go out?). I know he’s a dog but he’s a part of our family. When I sat on the couch crying over complete jerks, he jumped on the chair, snuggled against me or licked my face.  When I come home from college he waits in the kitchen and greets me, his tail wagging and jumps into my arms. He always finds some way to make me happy without saying a single word. That’s what I love about dogs. They can’t talk to you but they find little ways to show you they care.

For now, he sleeps by the fire, teddies gathered round him and a cozy blanket nearby. He’s my dog, my world. X

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