Monday we had The Rocco put to sleep. By Tuesday his grave was dug and his body interred between two bougainvillea bushes. Not far from La Cookie [ 1 ] [ 2 ]. When Rocco came to the house, he had a big bark and a mean bite. He was an unruly street rescue. And was by no means a tea cup poodle. I had to keep my distance from him for the longest time. Rocco’s main purpose was to be the household guard and alarm system. He looked the part. He sounded the part. He did his job well- most of the time. He liked to think he was a expert by the way he would trot back inside all self-satisfied after a good barking. During the middle of the day. After he was told to stop it already and come back inside. Because the startled women with their baby strollers weren't a threat. It took him a while, but when he figured out who his pack was, he turned out to be a big softy under all that woof power. He would escape once in a while. He would still bite pe