Rocco

Rocco

I was the best. I was trained to be a killer. My owner would use smaller animals to train me. I would enjoy feeling my jaws clamp down on the flesh of the poor defenseless animals. When I was done with those smaller animals like cats and rabbits there would be nothing left. I would feel nothing like a robot, or a soldier’s military bearing after combat. I was the best until I was to fight the love of my life. It rocked my demeanor and how I viewed the world.
We had pups and for those of you who don’t believe a pit-bull would have these kind of emotions to their sport- think again. There are a lot of things humans don’t know about man’s best friends.
Anyway, she was beautiful we were actually bred together for more pups. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her. When she bit me I just licked her back. She would ask me during the fight, the only way a dog could, why wasn’t I fighting back, I would reply I love you as a tear went down my face.
The crowd that night would cuss and spit at me. The smell of reefer was in the air. I was known through out the neighborhood as being the best. The patrons outside the pit never saw a dog as strong as me just taking the blows from another dog.
After it was all over my owner kicked me in the side. The love of my life had no scars or puncture marks from my teeth. I was beaten up pretty badly. Even then I knew there will be a rematch.
At the time my name was Thomas. I always hated that name. My owner was a drunk and depended on his dog fighting to pay the bills. After the fight he left me alone for the most part. He didn’t even put me back in my cage he just left me in his front yard to die, but I was planning to escape when I got my strength back. He would throw scraps of chicken and give water every once in awhile.
I would lay in that front yard and watch him as he left and comeback. I couldn’t open the gate my self, but I figured if I timed it right-I could escape.
The gate would swing open then slowly close. I had to time it right. Sometimes I would just stare at it while counting how much time I would have until it closed again.
The front yard was a lot better then the back yard where the fighting took place. In the backyard, I would be surrounded by a line of plywood with another dog. We were in there to fight and it didn’t stop until one of us couldn’t go on or was even dead. This was not the life for me.
His front yard was ugly. It had no grass, but thankfully there was a shade tree. I layed underneath it most of the time just watching my owner leave and come back leave and come back.
Three months later I wasn’t limping as much. My scars and scratches didn’t feel as bad. I watched the front gate swing open then close. My owner paid me no mind until I started growling and I started edging closer to freedom.
My owner eyes looked terrified. I love that feeling when I scare or horrify another beast or sometimes a human. He didn’t know if he wanted to comeback into the gate. I backed away, and he swung the gate open, and I started running.
He yelled, “No No!!”
But it didn’t face me I ran right by him.
“I thought you were dying.” He told me.
I just kept on running.
After I left my owner didn’t try to find me. I never saw him again which was fine with me. I thought of running away for so long I didn’t think about what I was going to do. I stayed at a play ground there were plenty of places to lie under while it rained.
Two days went by and I was starving. A boy showed up with a bag full of hamburgers. They smelled so good. I went over to him. I think I startled him at first because he jumped up from his seat.
“Are you a good dog?” He asked.
I barked.
“Of course you are. Do you want some hamburger?”
I went over to him, and he took the beef out of the one he hadn’t been eating from. He held it in his hand. I guess he wanted to feed me. My owner used to just throw my food on the floor.
I stepped softly to him. Was he going to hit me? Or kick me?
He held out the paddy and I stuck out my nose to smell it. While I was doing this I looked at him. He had a black eye and some scratches on his face. Was he a fighter? What happened?
I went closer and closer. The he just gave it to me. It tasted so good.
He started petting me, and even that felt good. He padded my belly and I rolled unto my back, of course after I ate the hamburger.
“I think I am going to call you Rocco.”
I like the name Rocco.
Suddenly I heard a woman’s voice.
“Dennis…. Dennis”
The voice was coming from a house across the street from the play ground.
“That’s my mom. I have to go. Rocco stay and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Wouldn’t you know it; he was there the next day with another hamburger. It was the same kid with a black eye and scratches. We ate and I layed down beside him. He petted me and talked to me until the voice called him again.
He left and I followed so I could see where he goes when he leaves. He went into a house, and it looked like a nice house. I wished I could live there with him.
The next morning he left the house with a backpack on his back. I decided to follow him.
The expression on his face was tight. He looked scared of something. I wanted to see what it was.
Suddenly three big kids were in front of him. They weren’t willing to let him by. I got mad so mad that I decided to do something about it.
I ran down there and stopped at my new best friend. I started growling and foaming at the mouth. The three kids looked scared.
“If you don’t leave me alone,” the kid said, “Rocco will eat you up like you were Alpo.”
They left him alone, and he went to a big building. I stayed there waiting. I waited there for hours until he came out.
I saw him, and I also saw the three kids that gave him trouble. I barked and they decided to go across the street. My new best friend came over to me, and we walked back to his house.
He told me to wait outside his front door. I did so. He went inside, and brought out this woman. They were talking about me.
“A dog,” she said, “help you with those darn bullies.”
He brought her where I was waiting. We made eye contact and her eye’s slip to a sympathetic look.
“He looks like one of those fighting dogs.”
“A fighting dog?” My new best friend inquired.
“He looks beaten up.” She concluded.
“Can I keep him mom?” He asked.
She knelt down beside me, and loved on me a little bit.
“It would be nice to have a man in the house.”
“Yea!” My new best friend shouted.
My new family loved on me and I never felt the need to run away again.