Rosie is Nine

 

by Pa Rock

Dependable Friend

My best friend, Rosie (a.k.a. "Rosie B. Doggie," "Sweetie Petey," and "Good Girl Pearl"), is nine-years-old today.  That's her age in "human" years, in the universe of dogs she is a matronly sixty-three, an elder barker who is no longer shy about expressing her demands and napping whenever and wherever she wants to!

Rosie and I first met when she was about six-weeks-old and was up for sale with her smaller sister at a roadside stand in the little berg of Cauflield, Missouri.  It was September 1st, 2014, and I had just retired and had been living back in Missouri for less than six months when I pulled over to have a look at the "puppies for sale" which were being advertised on a large, homemade sign.  Rosie and her smaller sister were in a cardboard box, and I stuck my hands in to touch the tiny creatures.  Rosie responded by licking the offered hand.  

The lady selling the puppies was a local dog "breeder" (often a polite term for puppy mill operator) and I felt an immediate need to rescue one or both barely-weened puppies.  But I resisted and headed on into Mountain Home, Arkansas, to shop for some home supplies.  I told myself that if the little creatures were still there when I returned in a couple of hours, that I would rescue them.

When I drove back through the stand was still up and I pulled in again, and Rosie was there patiently waiting.  (The seller told me that her sister had gone to a home with some people passing through who said they lived in Chicago.)    Rosie moved into my house that evening and has been in residence here ever since.  It is, in fact, her house now and I am the tolerated guest.

The next day I took tiny Rosie to the vet for a general well-being checkup.  She was still timid and not eating, but he put some canned food on his finger that was so delicious that she could not help herself.  We dined on that for several weeks.  The vet weighed Rosie and she was one pound and one ounce.  Now Rosie eats well, and she lets me know when she is hungry by licking her lips.

(Today she is in the eleven pound range.  Rosie also now has some clouding of the eyes which the "expert" locals say is cataracts, but the vet says is a viral eye infection that we can't seem to get to go away - but she can still spot a squirrel at a hundred yards and give chase!  Rosie's hearing more than makes up for any loss of vision.  I like to say that she can hear an ant fart in a thunderstorm, and I truly believe that she could!)

That same day that Rosie came to live at my house, I was talking to my granddaughter, Olive, on the phone and telling her about my new puppy who still had no name.  I asked Olive, who was two at the time, for suggestions, and she said "Rosie," and I liked it - and more importantly, so did Rosie.  So "Rosie" it was!  (I learned later that Olive had selected that name because "Rosie" was the name of the Dora the Explorer's little sister.

Olive is eleven now and will be twelve in October.  Rosie recently spent a week with Olive and her family while I was in North Carolina, and tomorrow we will be with the Kansas Macys again as I prepare for a week in Oregon and Rosie prepares to lay down the barking law to Jack the Black Lab.  She will be with Olive's family for another week.

When Rosie was young she was very playful and liked to chew things that she shouldn't - like computer cords.  Now that she is older she is more sedate and sleeps much of the time.  She also  likes to curl up next to me on the couch and watch the occasional television program - or sleep while I watch television.  At night Rosie sleeps in her own little bed beneath mine.   If I get up in the middle of the night, she will often follow along to make sure that I am okay.

That's what friends do - they look after each other.

Happy birthday, sweetie.   You are a wonderful friend!