I still feel a need to look over my shoulder and see if Rocky is okay. There is an empty spot there. He would have been 15 years old this summer. In dog years, he was about 102 when he died.

For the past two winters people have said that they didn’t think he would make it through another winter. On Monday, when Kim told me she thought Rocky’s time had come, I remained skeptical. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Yet when I saw how he could not get up and wouldn’t eat, I feared she was right.

We struggled with the issues that everyone faces when a loved one is dying. How long do we keep up the struggle? What sort of extraordinary measures are called for? How do we know we are not simply prolonging the pain? Should we try, or can we even keep him alive until Mairead gets home?

Some hope remained. Would a magical shot enable him to walk, or even run again? We didn’t think this was the case. However, the vet did prescribe rimadyl. We gave him a pill and he seemed to perk up. He ate dinner. The next morning he ate breakfast. At one point, he seemed to ask to go outside and Kim and I carried him. He stood, sniffed the wind, urinated and was ready to go back inside. He showed a little more strength and managed at times to stand by himself when we changed his padding, and even once or twice to lift himself up on his own.

Last night after Kim and I had gone to bed, Miranda knocked on our door. Rocky was panting heavily again. Miranda and I sat with Rocky for a while before we all went to bed.

In the morning, I was the first one in the kitchen. Rocky was lying still on the floor. My mind went back to so many times that I’ve driven up the driveway to see Rocky lying still in the warm sunshine in the yard. My mind would wonder, has his time come? But he would always lift his head, and then make his way over to welcome us home.

This morning I looked. His eyes were open. As I walked, it appeared as if he blinked, either that or it was hope mixed with a change of perspective. I knelt down beside him. He was cold and stiff.

It isn’t easy telling your children that the family pet has died. Miranda wept. Fiona didn’t fully understand. Kim told her that Rocky had died. Fiona responded, “But his eyes are open”. We talked about how Rocky was now in heaven running on the perfect legs God wanted for him, how he was running with Kim’s beloved childhood dog Polly. We talked about how we were sure that Kim’s mom was there to welcome Rocky. Perhaps she had a special treat for him.

We called up my ex-wife, Amy, who had been so close to Rocky. She came, joined our mourning and then took Miranda off to school. It will be a hard day for Miranda. It will be a hard day for all of us. I called Mairead. It was another tough call. I expected she would still be asleep, but I wasn’t sure her schedule and I felt it was important that she know.

I carried Rocky out onto the porch. We will work out the details of his burial and memorial this afternoon. Kim has taken Fiona off to school and headed into work.

So, I sit here, next to the empty spot and write. You were a good boy, Rocky.