My Furry Brother

                My dog died last October. Depressing way to start a blog post I know, but just stay with me it gets better.

This is Rocky, he was about twelve years old here.

 

                Rocky, my dog, died last October because he ate a large pile of chocolate I had in a box in my room to take back to college. I felt so guilty because I thought I could have prevented the whole thing from happening if I had just moved the stupid box. Rocky’s passing was hard for my family and me because I grew up with that dog. He was one of my best friends.

                I know that being best friends with a dog sounds odd, but dogs can become an integral part of a family. Rocky ate, slept, breathed and lived in our home. He was a part of our ohana (which if you were a Disney’s “Lilo and Stich” fan from when you were little you will know that “ohana” means family in Hawaiian).

                After Rocky’s passing there were a few months the Grigsby household was pet-free. Until December when we got my newest little brother: Joey. Joey is now a nine month old Chocolate Lab; and he is the most adorable little puppy you will ever see. I am a little biased however.

This was taken the third day we had gotten Joey.

 

                I have to admit I had a few uneasy feeling about bringing a new dog into the house because I thought we were trying to get over Rocky too soon, but once my mom walked through the door with Joey I was head-over-heels, fall-down, irresistibly, in love with that dark brown fuzz ball and I have been ever since.

                Joey tests our patience a lot like when he drags my pillows off my bed and onto his dog bed, or when he leaves shreds of toys all over the living room floor. After all that though when I look into those puppy eyes I know no matter how ornery he is I love him and he is a part of our family, and my heart, forever.



This is Joey now at nine months old.