New Painting! Rocky.

I remember when Rocky came home. It was the day before I turned 9. He was such a tiny little thing, born under a porch on a farm just outside of Ottawa. My older brother had gone out with my mum, and they came back with him as a big surprise. I had no idea we were getting a puppy.

We wanted to give him a really cool name, like Damian, but we didn't get to name him. Our father demanded naming rights, since he didn't really want us to have an animal. He's always been a petty man.

That was the year we also helped dig the pond in the backyard. I'm sure we didn't really contribute that much actual help, as kids, but I remember Rocky running around, trying to eat rocks. It's amazing he never lost any teeth in his life. He was just a little guy, running around, 'helping' like the rest of us kids. I suppose 9 is old enough, but we were useless and there's no sense denying it.

Once the hole was deep enough, we lined it with trash bags and filled it with water. The bags did nothing to keep the water clear. It was a muddy pond, but I think that's what kept the fish alive. We put all the goldfish in, and they thrived in there. Rocky would always try to swim.

We leashed him to go out for his needs. We had no fences to keep him in. He did escape a few times in his life. He wasn't neutered, either, so who knows if he has descendants. He was so strong, though, that he snapped the metal chain on the leash. We got him a haltee so we wouldn't get dragged on walks, but he even managed to pull us around with that. I had many many near misses of being pulled into that pond.

When we drained the pond for the winter to bring the fish in, they were significantly bigger. And they'd spawned some 400 baby gold fish. Many of them survived into spring, and got even larger. It was a couple winters later that something went off in the water in our home and poisoned them all. They'd made it to 6 or 7 inches long. Like mini Koi. The colours change when they get bigger as well.

Rocky was a simple boy. He was grumpy, constantly harassed by kids. He loved bread, chasing his tail, and forcing his snout through crossed legs to lick faces. He hated drive-by pettings.

In his final year of life, he got himself and my mum sprayed by a skunk by accident. He was mostly blind and deaf. Very very old, and very stinky. He lived 17 years. I miss his grumpy little face.

Not many progress shots of this piece either, but here you go.

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