Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Rocky's gone

Early on the afternoon of February 2nd, I knocked on Jim Jacobs’ door, near Conroy, Iowa. I had been looking for my dog, Rocky, for the last twelve hours. He, along with my other two dogs, also Huskies, had accidentally been let out of their fenced in yard by some friends who were visiting the night before.

He opened the door saying, “Who called you?” He had a scowl on his face and there was anger in his voice. I looked down to see he held Rocky’s red collar in his hand, with his nametag attached. I was confused.

“You have my dog?” Where’s my dog, where’s my Rocky?” I asked.

He said, “I shot him,” as he handed over the collar.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You shot my dog!? You shot my Rocky?” I staggered back a few steps.

“I can’t tolerate stray dogs,” he replied.

I stumbled, doubled over in pain, and stammered out a few words, something like “You SHOT MY DOG? YOU KILLED MY DOG!? WHY! WHY? Where is my Rocky?”

“I threw him in a ditch along the road.”

I don’t know what I said after that. I was in a state of shock and denial. I did manage to call 911, and the sheriff’s deputy soon arrived, taking over from there. I was stumbling around, mumbling incoherently.

Rocky and I were closer than close. He meant the world to me. Although I’ve never had children, he was like my child. You would be hard pressed to find a more loveable, friendlier, sweeter presence in a dog. All of my friends and neighbors would agree. He LIVED to play.

Lady, Rocky’s mother, had also been at Jim’s door with Rocky. My guess is that they had been running for quite a ways, had become disoriented, and did not know their way home. They were not accustomed to being off the leash. This had happened one other time and they ended up at Richard Kummer’s house along Highway 6. He and his wife were kind enough to hold them in their garage for me overnight, and later commented on what sweet natured dogs they were, even asking if they were up for adoption.

Whatever the case, they were at Jim Jacobs’ doorstep seeking nothing more than a helping hand. What Rocky was greeted with was something else entirely. Judging by the size of the hole in his head, I would guess it was a deer slug, although I couldn’t say for sure.

My Dad arrived at some point, and after a brief exchange, between him, the deputy, and Jim, it was arranged that Jim would go get Rocky’s body from the ditch and bring him back to be placed in Dad’s truck. It took all the courage I could muster to look at my boy, my Rocky boy, lying there like that, all bloody, cold, and stiff.

I will never know why Jim Jacobs did what he did; why he shot my dog, executed my beloved Rocky, only a few feet from his front door. He was not being threatened, he had no reason to believe he was in any kind of danger, and I do not believe he thought he was shooting at a stray dog. Rocky’s bright red collar and dangling metal nametag would have been in plain view, especially with the porch light on. That same name tag that had his name, my cell number, and my parents’ home number on it. He didn’t bother to call either of those numbers, nor did he bother to call the sheriff, to say the dog he shot, that he thought was a stray, actually belonged to someone. He had plenty of time to do so. It had been at least twelve hours between the time he killed my dog and my arriving at his door.

No, he didn’t do any of those things, but instead dumped Rocky, like some sack of garbage, in a ditch along a country road.

Now that Rocky is in the ground, as I reflect back and continue to be haunted by the horrific details of that afternoon, something has dawned on me. I finally understand why I was confused at the anger in Jim’s voice and eyes when he said, “Who called you!?”, as I approached his door, before he handed me Rocky’s collar. I had just been knocking on EVERYONE’S door, looking for Rocky, but he assumed since I was there at HIS door, that I already knew he had shot my dog, that someone had called me, and there was no further reason to hide the truth.

Rocky’s blood was spattered on the snow, close to the sidewalk, about five or six feet from the front door. The giant hole in his forehead was centered perfectly, between and slightly above his eyes. I think if I were to see Jim tomorrow, I would say this: “It must have been nice for him to sit up so straight and still for you, huh Jim? Almost like you were taking his picture. Was he wagging his tail? Was he looking into your eyes?”

Maybe someday I will find the necessary forgiveness in my heart, maybe there will be a day when I can make my peace with Jim Jacobs for taking away the one who was so, so incredibly dear to me. The two of us were inseparable, and now we are separated. But for now, I am an empty shell of a man, save for a few precious and undying memories.

Rocky was one year and ten days old when he died. I thank the Lord for every precious moment we spent together. God Bless you, Rocky, and may you rest in peace.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hi Randy,

This is James K. When I first heard your story last week, I felt so horrible for you and especially for Rocky. We are also pet parents, and our kitties, Martha and Ginger, are full members of our family too.

I can’t imagine what you must be going through. I’ve tried to imagine what it would be like to lose Martha or Ginger in such a terrible way and it’s so difficult for me to consider; I can’t fathom how awful it would be. I keep seeing Rocky standing there, before Jacob's gun barrel: unaware that humans are capable of such cruelty, only having known love and affection.

Every time I think of Rocky, I’m filled with sadness. Afterwards, I’m filled with extreme anger at Jim Jacobs. It is a testament to either your character, or the shock you felt, or both that you did not react violently to him. Those were the first feelings I had; feelings of extreme rage and even now, a week later, I still feel that way. I have an overwhelming desire to take justice into my own hands.

That being said, I hope that your blog here and other channels that can draw attention to the horrible, stupid, bitter, cowardly thing Jim Jacobs did. Every violent act I can imagine would be too good for him; it is better he is called out publicly and repeatedly for the callus fool he is. I cannot imagine that this man has a feeling bone in his body. Could he possibly be capable of friendship or love? It makes me wonder how he treats his family or others around him: I worry for their safety as well. I especially worry if he’s got children and is raising them to "shoot first and ask questions later" too. Jim Jacobs cold brand of anger and hatred are too easily taught.

I commend your courage and tact in coming forward with this story. It’s often someone like Jim Jacobs can intimidate or bully us when we’re already feeling vulnerable. It’s a credit to you and your support system of friends and family that you’ve done Rocky honor here and continue to fight for the justice available under the law, and that we as members of a community can also apply.

I hope you’re reading this Jim Jacobs. This stupid mistake is a wake up call – change your ways and think of others first. Shit, just thinking would be a good start.

Unknown said...

So sorry for your loss, Randy. Be proud that you've taken this awful situation along your grief and turned into something positive. Your efforts could benefit many pets and owners. I wish I had been able to meet Rocky.

Anonymous said...

Hello Randy,
Just finished reading the account of this tragic story. We rescued a Siberian Husky from the animal shelter around 11 years ago. Wyatt was my walking buddy for about 8 years until his hips couldn't go anymore. I now have a soft spot for Huskies and this story just made me cry. How could anyone be so cruel? I hope this man pays for his cruelty and is made an example to others for his actions. My sympathies to you for the loss of Rocky. Sue

Anonymous said...

Aloha Randy
I just hear about this fronm Rob. i really feel for you man as I had 3 dogs and a horse for 10 years and i know how you can get attached to them. They become your kids. i took my horse and 3 dogs back to ohio from Hawaii back in the 80's when work was slow here. it cost me several thousand dollars and my family and friends thought I was crazy. But they were my kids back then.i would have paid any amount. I had to borrow 3 k from my sister who I paid back over time. 5 years late I came back to Hawaii with 2 of my dogs. I had to sell my horse,[he was getting old and i was afraid he couldn't make the trip back] and my other dog Annie, was killed by a car one night in front of my house. It was the worst night of my life. I was devestated. My heart was riped out. I loved that dog sooooooooooooo much bro ,you don't know. Or do you. It's a huge loss. I really feel for you man . I couldn't work, eat ,sleep ,nothing for days. Finally i started getting over it little by little. It takes time. Time heals all wounds. Hang in there bud. It will get better. I'm praying for you. Aloha Kona

Anonymous said...

I am very sorry for your loss. I am a dog lover too, and have had many "dog children" over the years that I have loved deeply. Do what I do, when I start missing my dog buddies who aren't here anymore: I picture them running and playing in a big green field, with the sun shining on them and bright blue sky overhead. I really believe they are in Doggy Heaven. Maybe your Rocky is even playing with my Evan or Max or Frisco! Anyway, hold onto the happy thoughts, and try to forget the terrible way Rocky's life was ended. He would not want you to focus on his death-but on his LIFE instead. I will eagerly watch for the outcome of the legal trial. Mr. Jacobs definitely needs to be punished for what he has done. Sincerely, a Fellow Dog Lover, and Someone Who Understands How Your Heart Is Hurting. Take Care.

Cameron Shearer said...

My thoughts are with you, Randy. Losing a pooch is one of life's hardest experiences and I KNOW that Rocky is in heaven, an angel returned who will always be there for you. I've got my own angels up there with him, Peanut and the first Schatze, Tom, Heidi and Miz Pooch. I'm so blessed to have my own Rocky Sue, the new Schatz, Bobalu, and Gato, and as they age my heart grows more tender every day, knowing how special every moment.

Big hugs, my friend.

Cam Shearer