Happy 12th Birthday, Rocco

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Happy Rocco Gotcha Day

Two years ago, we picked up Rocco from his foster family in Manchester NH. He was and is a quiet guy, with good instincts and good training. His quiet manner makes his silliness and excitement all the more delightful.

One morning a week, Rocco and I help to get Cassie onto her school bus.
A couple of times a week, he accompanies Sandra on visits to her mother at the nursing home. He's a comforting presence amid people who appreciate comforting.

Of storms and poetry

After yesterday's thunderstorms, the skies have cleared and a strong, fresh northwest wind is bringing cool air. I just got the fire started and soon it'll be warm for our breakfast.

Rocco doesn't like thunderstorms. He finds a place in the house, oddly, it seems, by a sink, such as the kitchen or bathroom, and stays there for the duration. No enticing of any sort, even cookies or supper, will get him to move until the storm has passed.

I recently talked about this with another dog owner. He mentioned how his new young dog went through obedience school and was trained to stay calm in noisy situations. Thunderstorms, though, are different, with the  low-frequency rumbles that can be felt long before we can even hear them. This friend said he'd put his dog in the dog's crate and, to add to the calm, would read Robert Frost's poetry to the dog. It seemed to work. When storms came, the dog now goes to his crate and waits for the poetry reading. If a storm comes at night, the dog will its master, expecting to hear Birches.

We tried this with Rocco. Of course, he's much older and his fears are deep. He didn't budge while Sandra read The Road Not Taken.

The storms, as I'd mentioned, have moved on. Rocco's already asked me once if it's time for breakfast. Not yet, but soon.

Rocco

We picked up Rocco^[1] from his foster family in Manchester NH yesterday afternoon. His family generously offered many tips about his habits and likes. Even at age nine, he's interested in playing, tugging on a rope toy being one of his favorites.
On the ride home, he settled quietly in the wayback, rising to look around only as we slowed or took corners.
He was understandably curious and nervous about his new home. The back yard is snow-covered, so he explored only as much as the paths would let him. This morning, I need to bring down more firewood. We'll be out for some time and he might wander some more.
After our getting to know when he wants to play, we tossed and tugged at toys through the evening. His foster family had given us his bed, which we put in our bedroom. He settled in nicely and, although he can snore loudly, he seemed to have a good night.
The folks at NEARR ask that we provide regular photos and updates for the first year. We'll start a separate blog for him this weekend.
He's doing fine and we're doing great. Thanks to all of the voices of cheer from family, friends, and denizens of Blogotopia.

^[1]His given name had been spelled Rocko. We've opted for the Italian spelling with a nice tie-in to Saint Rocco.