This is a story about Rocko, and how he enjoyed life.

I remember when they dropped Rocko off at my house for the first time — he was just two years old. My first impression of Rocko was that of a very timid and scared dog. That was not surprising since he was in an environment that was alien to him.

He was so skittish and would walk about 8 feet behind me, watching and ready to bolt if I tried to get close to him. This routine continued for the first couple of days before he gradually settled in and started getting closer to me.

I suppose I should take a step back and provide some context around why I got a fully grown dog rather than a puppy. I was single and living alone in a home I’d just purchased in Nigeria. It was a cute two-bedroom townhouse. I had lived there for a few months when I experienced my first break-in. It happened when I was at work and a few items were taken. The second break-in occurred the next day, again, while I was at work. This time, the intruder didn’t take anything — he did leave an unwanted gift in the form of a ‘deposit’ on one of my dresses. Once we figured out how he was getting in, I took steps to secure the security gaps, and then my brother-in-law gave me Rocko as a companion and protector.

Back to my first impressions of Rocko: he was a handsome German shepherd. My brother-in-law said Rocko didn’t like to eat much because one of the other dogs would bully him, so he was a little skinny for his age.

In anticipation of his arrival, I had gone shopping for doggy supplies. I found a local vet and also got a doghouse. Once he arrived, he rushed into the doghouse and would not come out. I prepared his meal and put it by his door. He would only stick out his head to eat and retreat to the back of his doghouse. When he did come out, he made sure to keep his distance. Over the next couple of days, we developed an uneasy relationship — he would walk around the yard familiarizing himself with it and marking his territory. When he saw me, he would come a little close and then back away. Then one evening, about five days after he moved in, I put some doggy treats in the palm of my hand, which he finally ate.

A couple of days later when I got home from work, Rocko rushed up to me wagging his tail and allowed me to pat his head. Over the weeks, as Rocko got more comfortable, his personality shone through. He loved to eat and started gaining weight. He was quite high-spirited and playful. He loved to go on walks so I’d take him for walks before leaving for work. Once I got back from work, we would go for a stroll around the neighborhood — we were a familiar feature in my neighborhood and people would give us a wide berth when they saw us coming due to his size. Having a companion also led to some changes in my lifestyle. Now, I made more effort to eat at home so healthier homecooked meals for Rocko and me. I also got used to our daily walks which provided a form of exercise for me. More importantly, I made new connections in the neighborhood — there was a family that lived close by who also had a dog that Rocko befriended. During our walks, Rocko would always stop by their fence to play with the dog and I got to chat with the mom and kids. Having Rocko was sort of like having a child. I could not just pick up and go as I used to. I remember traveling with my boss once and he said I could stay a few extra days in that state since my parents lived there. I think he was surprised when I said I had to rush back home the same day because of Rocko.

I remember my brother-in-law being quite shocked at Rocko’s transformation when he visited a few months later. Rocko had gained some weight, was quite spirited and happy.

Rocko could act like a baby when he wanted his way, especially when he wanted to come into the house to sit with me. He would whine until I gave in and allowed him in. He loved to sit by the window in the living room while I watched tv or listened to music. I think he enjoyed being with me and needed me just as much as I needed him. I had Rocko for almost three years before things started going downhill.

It was the little things at first. Rocko would growl at anyone who came to the house, especially construction workers. I remember flying him to my parents’ home when I had to travel for work. The first trip was fine, but during a follow-up trip, he tried to bite my dad. On another occasion, when I had to travel for work, mum dog sat Rocko and he kept growling at her. He had gotten all his shots so I wasn’t sure what was going on. I took him to the vet who said Rocko was fine. He started acting weirder and wasn’t eating as he should. I took him to the vet again and they couldn’t figure out what the problem was. I might as well have bought shares in the vet clinic considering how often I took Rocko there. He kept getting worse and they kept giving different medications that didn’t help.

I remember the last day like it was yesterday. We had just gotten back from the vet and I struggled to lift him out of the car because he was so weak. He took a few shaky steps and fell on his side. He started heaving and then convulsing. I remember hearing someone shouting and realized it was me. I didn’t know how to help him so I just stroked his neck and tried to make sure he didn’t bite his tongue. Then he stopped convulsing and while I watched, I saw a gray film cloud over his eyes and he was gone.

Rocko was 5 years old. He didn’t live for very long by doggy standards but I like to think that he lived well and felt loved in the short time he had with me. I know I certainly was loved by Rocko.