"Running Commentary"
Rocky McGraw – ME!
Hello. I’m Rocky McGraw. Woof!
If you haven’t guessed – I’m a dog. That’s me in the photo.
Cute, huh? Everyone says so. It’s kinda embarrassing, but I don’t complain because I get lots of attention from everyone I meet. Lots of hugs and kisses. All because I have green eyes and a furry snout.
Beats working for a living. Arf!
Allow me to introduce myself. I’m 13 weeks old have been adopted by an old man – a really, really OLD man – who lives in Concordia, Kansas. Maybe you know him? My daddy is Roy Michael Owens and many people in California, Pennsylvania, Colorado and Kansas know him because he has been writing newspaper columns since some dude named Gutenberg invented the printing press.
Daddy said that, so it must be true.
Some readers of this newspaper may be familiar with my older brother, Boulder McGraw, who was rescued from an Amarillo, Texas, death squad by Mile High Canine Rescue in Colorado. Boulder tells me he began writing newspaper columns when he was only 11 weeks old.
Seriously? Isn’t that just like an older, competitive brother – always wanting the upper-hand. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but sometimes, he annoys the bleep out of me. We wrestle a lot and guess who always wins. Daddy throws a ball – and guess who races ahead to get it first. Do you think he shares?
If you didn’t know, older brothers can be a tad PUSHY.
And another thing – Boulder is sneaky. Daddy tries to even out treats equally, but just as soon as his back is turned, the “favored one” runs over and tries to grab mine. When Daddy asks, “Rocky, how did you eat your treat so quickly?” guess who sits there innocently like a saint from the Ecclesiastical and Holy Church of Poor and Infirm Dogs. Yep. Him!
Guilty as sin, with the countenance of a saint.
Boulder tends to brag a lot about his prowess, so I don’t know how much to believe – whether he wrote his first column when he was 11 wks. old or not. However, there is one crucial difference. Boulder speaks with a funny Tex-Mex accent because he was born in Texas. His took some ESL classes – English as a Second Language – but the columns he writes still need to be translated from Spanish.
ME? I’m Kansas born and raised, right here in Concordia, and proud of it. Nobody translates me. I bark in perfect English. Woof!
You know that old adage, timing is everything? Get this! Daddy got Boulder from that Colorado rescue agency on June 13, 2020. Daddy got me from my birth family on June 14, 2021 – exactly one year and one day later. Karma!
And here’s something else my brother and I have in common. Boulder was one of nine in his mother’s litter – and the last to be adopted. I was one of ten in my mother’s litter. And just like Boulder, I too was the last to be adopted by a family.
We’re BOTH last of our litters. Weird, huh? Do you have any idea what it’s like to see all your siblings be adopted one by one. All those families looked me straight in the eye and said, “Nope. Not him.” The words keep ringing in my ear … “Nope, not him. Not him. Not him.” Multiply that rejection by nine, and it’s amazing that I’m still Mr. Positive Plus Puppy.
Friends, if that kind of rejection doesn’t tear at your heart, your heart isn’t beating. I tried my best to spruce up and look cute –nothing worked. Not until Daddy saw me. And THAT was love at first bark.
Woof! Woof! Daddy wanted MEEEE!
Daddy had been looking for a brother for Boulder for awhile now. He wanted a puppy, not an older dog, so we could grow old together. Check! He also wanted a dog with shorter hair so there wouldn’t be a lot of shedding in the house. Check!
Daddy looks like a shaggy dog himself, but he’s actually a real neat-nick. He even makes his own bed – every morning. And you know what? I love him anyway.
Most animal experts say if you’re going to have two dogs, it’s good to have one boy and one girl. But that isn’t always necessary. If the older dog is “simpatico” and gets along great with other dogs, they will probably be OK when older. And another factor is having dogs about the same age.
I don’t think Boulder and I will have a problem. But he’s in for a rude awakening – right now, he thinks of me as a puny 15 lb. weakling. Take a look at my paws in that photo. My paws are the same size as Boulder – in about six or seven months, I’ll be just as big as he is – 60 lbs. Take that, Fido!
Well, that’s the news from this end of the pooch. I look forward to writing more columns about my progress with growing up. Maybe by the next time, I’ll be all house-trained and Daddy won’t be pulling out the few hairs he has remaining. It’s part of the growing process – accidents happen.
There are worse things than potty training. The house isn’t going to fall down. Rugs can be washed.
Daddy will survive.
Epilogue: Dad is eager to have Rocky’s DNA tested. He definitely has some Pit Bull Terrier in him, as does Boulder. And those green eyes – Weimaraner?