I knew it was going to be rough for J-Rab when she eventually had to say goodbye to Rocko, our favourite of the fourteen Anatolian Sheepdog puppies we’ve been raising, so it was no surprise to me when she called in tears to say he was gone.
But what killed me was how fucking unhelpful the Express Air staff were. They left J-Rab completely by herself to pack the four puppies who were too little to be proper sheepdogs into these tiny crates so they could be flown up to Joburg.
The crates were full of shit-covered old newspaper and were so small the puppies couldn’t turn around in them, so naturally J-Rab lost it completely, tore all the newspaper out the crates and used the puppy blankets she’d brought with to line them instead.
And all the while the puppies didn’t make a peep and let her put all four of them inside their crates without making a sound because they’ve learnt to trust her and they know she’d never hurt them.
But when she had to shut the crates and lock them, one by one the puppies started crying and there was nothing she could do, nothing at all except walk away and probably never see them again for as long as they live.
Fuck, I felt all choked up when she told me the story and I wasn’t the one who watched every one of them be born and who fed them from when they were little furry worms right up until today, when J-Rab kissed them goodbye for the last time.
Life is just plain fucked up sometimes. On Wednesday the rest of the puppies go and I guess life just goes back to normal, like none of it ever happened.
I’ll miss Rocko though, he was an amazing dog. I just hope he gets a good, loving home and people who’ll look after him and treat him right.
Good luck to ya Rocko little buddy, grow up big and strong and brave. Life ain’t gonna be the same without you, but for as long as this junkyard site stands we’ll remember you and probably even if it doesn’t.
Your dad.
-ST
