Still learning
In his time here, Rocky taught me countless lessons about people. I once read of some lady who would bring all her dates home, and if they didn't get along with her cats, she'd dump them instantly. It wasn't that straightforward with Rocky. I'm all for animal instincts -- I'm not surprised that they can sense impending natural disasters -- but I just don't think that Rocky was made to be my personal compatibility detector. I don't think dogs can sniff out "good" and "evil" people, partly because I don't even think any one person is wholly "good" or "evil." We all have our moments, our moral conflicts, our internal struggles. It doesn't mean anything to a dog if their human is evading taxes or if he's having an extra-marital affair.
That said, Rocky knows the difference when I accidentally kick him off the bed, and when my cousin kicks him (he did this once, and never again) just because he was "barking too loudly." In the first case, he gets back up and snuggles again; in the second, he barks even louder and bares his teeth with hostility. And that has taught me about context. There are many things that people do that offend and annoy me, even when they don't mean it. Part of the reciprocity in any relationship is to discern the important stuff from the unimportant ones; if previous experience shows a trend of someone who speaks before he thinks, yet earnestly accepts advice and rebuke afterwards, then there is a better way to handle them than flaring up and walking away.
***
A lot of what I learnt from Rocky is in the interactions that he had with my friends. Sure, I had the odd few be extremely rude, but the rest mostly gave me nothing but positive revelations.
Some of them were sickeningly sweet to Rocky (read: grown men talking in baby voices); they may have raised some goosebumps, and I don't know if they were being genuinely affectionate, or if they were just being that way because he was my dog. Either way, they made the effort and showered him with attention; they made him happy, and for that, I'm grateful.
Some of them didn't particularly take to him -- I could see from the way they flinched when he came near -- but they were considerate enough to be civil. I appreciate even this, because I know that there are people who use forwardness as an excuse to be rude; you don't call someone's dog "stupid" when you're in their house, just as you wouldn't tell someone's mother that her cooking sucked when you're invited to dinner for the first time. That's manners.
Rocky was by and large a people-dog, but there was a select group that he just couldn't get over. He snapped at them when they tried to touch him, and wouldn't take any food that they tried to feed him (most peculiar, because Rocky would take food from anyone). Unlike the cat lady, that didn't give me reason to chuck the friendship. Rather, I watched, as they came back time after time again, and made every effort to get to know him, even though after two whole years of making no headway, they had every reason to give up and ignore him. I watched as they did this -- getting exasperated at times, but always holding out their hand to him again on their next visit -- and it made me hopeful, that in them, I had friends who would take me back, if and when I do screw up. Again and again.
***
With Rocky, I learnt that "chemistry" is over-rated; while it may contribute to forming rare breed of friendship (or more), the lack of chemistry is no reason to give up on a relationship. With time, any two people can be expected to form real emotional and intellectual connections, no matter how little "chemistry" there may have been at the start.
On her first sleepover at my place, AY insisted on keeping the lights on, and she screamed every time Rocky so much as lifted his head (this caused the bell on his collar to jingle); I don't know how we slept that night. She once used my stools and pillows to build a fortress around herself to keep Rocky away; of course, the flurry of construction activity only served to make Rocky more curious, and -- much to her dismay -- he stalked her the entire night, trapping her helplessly in her little grid of cushions.
A couple of sleepovers later, when XL came over for the first time, she had the same adverse reaction to Rocky, and AY was the one who came to her "rescue" each time; this time it was AY's turn to laugh at XL for being unduly frightened by the dog that wouldn't hurt a fly (except for those he unintentionally squished on the wall when he fell down).
Two months ago, when she read of Rocky's passing, she called me: "I really did love him too, you know?" she sobbed. I know, of course I know.
Two lives that shared nothing, that knew nothing of each other, that had no "chemistry," to... this.
***
Three years ago, he was someone I would have never seen myself being firm friends with. He was chauvinistic, sexist, loud, uncouth -- everything I didn't appreciate in another human being.
Two years ago, I watched as he met Rocky for the first time, and it struck me how he was the only one of my friends who talked to Rocky as if he were a human being -- to actually have a conversation with him, pour out his frustrations, and then laugh at himself for talking to a dog. There was something special, right there, I knew that, and -- despite the fact that I didn't particularly take to him then -- I let him know just how I felt.
Today, while most of my closest guy friends are still tight-lipped about their emotions, choosing to let their actions speak for themselves -- which I appreciate, but in a different way -- he remains the one person who has sat down, and told me in those words, how much the depth of our friendship has touched him, and how much he will miss the shared moments when we graduate.
Two lives that shared nothing, that knew nothing of each other, that had no "chemistry," to... this.
***
This is by no means an exhaustive list of what living with Rocky has taught me -- after all, 11 years of lessons can hardly be condensed into a single post -- but these are right up there with the best. And because I'm such a slow-learner, I'm still grasping these things along the way, long after he's gone.
***
Thank you. While no amount of words will suffice, thank you. You have no idea. Thank you, and I miss you.
***
That said, Rocky knows the difference when I accidentally kick him off the bed, and when my cousin kicks him (he did this once, and never again) just because he was "barking too loudly." In the first case, he gets back up and snuggles again; in the second, he barks even louder and bares his teeth with hostility. And that has taught me about context. There are many things that people do that offend and annoy me, even when they don't mean it. Part of the reciprocity in any relationship is to discern the important stuff from the unimportant ones; if previous experience shows a trend of someone who speaks before he thinks, yet earnestly accepts advice and rebuke afterwards, then there is a better way to handle them than flaring up and walking away.
***
A lot of what I learnt from Rocky is in the interactions that he had with my friends. Sure, I had the odd few be extremely rude, but the rest mostly gave me nothing but positive revelations.
Some of them were sickeningly sweet to Rocky (read: grown men talking in baby voices); they may have raised some goosebumps, and I don't know if they were being genuinely affectionate, or if they were just being that way because he was my dog. Either way, they made the effort and showered him with attention; they made him happy, and for that, I'm grateful.
Some of them didn't particularly take to him -- I could see from the way they flinched when he came near -- but they were considerate enough to be civil. I appreciate even this, because I know that there are people who use forwardness as an excuse to be rude; you don't call someone's dog "stupid" when you're in their house, just as you wouldn't tell someone's mother that her cooking sucked when you're invited to dinner for the first time. That's manners.
Rocky was by and large a people-dog, but there was a select group that he just couldn't get over. He snapped at them when they tried to touch him, and wouldn't take any food that they tried to feed him (most peculiar, because Rocky would take food from anyone). Unlike the cat lady, that didn't give me reason to chuck the friendship. Rather, I watched, as they came back time after time again, and made every effort to get to know him, even though after two whole years of making no headway, they had every reason to give up and ignore him. I watched as they did this -- getting exasperated at times, but always holding out their hand to him again on their next visit -- and it made me hopeful, that in them, I had friends who would take me back, if and when I do screw up. Again and again.
***
With Rocky, I learnt that "chemistry" is over-rated; while it may contribute to forming rare breed of friendship (or more), the lack of chemistry is no reason to give up on a relationship. With time, any two people can be expected to form real emotional and intellectual connections, no matter how little "chemistry" there may have been at the start.
On her first sleepover at my place, AY insisted on keeping the lights on, and she screamed every time Rocky so much as lifted his head (this caused the bell on his collar to jingle); I don't know how we slept that night. She once used my stools and pillows to build a fortress around herself to keep Rocky away; of course, the flurry of construction activity only served to make Rocky more curious, and -- much to her dismay -- he stalked her the entire night, trapping her helplessly in her little grid of cushions.
A couple of sleepovers later, when XL came over for the first time, she had the same adverse reaction to Rocky, and AY was the one who came to her "rescue" each time; this time it was AY's turn to laugh at XL for being unduly frightened by the dog that wouldn't hurt a fly (except for those he unintentionally squished on the wall when he fell down).
Two months ago, when she read of Rocky's passing, she called me: "I really did love him too, you know?" she sobbed. I know, of course I know.
Two lives that shared nothing, that knew nothing of each other, that had no "chemistry," to... this.
***
Three years ago, he was someone I would have never seen myself being firm friends with. He was chauvinistic, sexist, loud, uncouth -- everything I didn't appreciate in another human being.
Two years ago, I watched as he met Rocky for the first time, and it struck me how he was the only one of my friends who talked to Rocky as if he were a human being -- to actually have a conversation with him, pour out his frustrations, and then laugh at himself for talking to a dog. There was something special, right there, I knew that, and -- despite the fact that I didn't particularly take to him then -- I let him know just how I felt.
Today, while most of my closest guy friends are still tight-lipped about their emotions, choosing to let their actions speak for themselves -- which I appreciate, but in a different way -- he remains the one person who has sat down, and told me in those words, how much the depth of our friendship has touched him, and how much he will miss the shared moments when we graduate.
Two lives that shared nothing, that knew nothing of each other, that had no "chemistry," to... this.
***
This is by no means an exhaustive list of what living with Rocky has taught me -- after all, 11 years of lessons can hardly be condensed into a single post -- but these are right up there with the best. And because I'm such a slow-learner, I'm still grasping these things along the way, long after he's gone.
***
Thank you. While no amount of words will suffice, thank you. You have no idea. Thank you, and I miss you.
***
posted by Laughingcow at 3:59 am
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