You’ve had to dig pretty deep to find this page. Now that you are here . . . welcome! A few words of explanation.
It’s a well known ploy to utilize at least one cloyingly emotional element in putting together a real estate website; you know, something to tug a bit on the heart strings of an internet visitor; something to make a Central Oregon Realtor seem just a little more like a real person. Dogs are pretty useful. Many are soft and cuddly. They are pretty non-controversial. Most are loyal, and friendly too. And who can say no to a good looking canine?
It used to be that golden retrievers were cool (and over-used in everything from business cards to print advertising); sort of a symbol for the American dream. But they are decidedly passé now. Pit bulls personify strength and tenacity, but are too “gangsta” for this site. Chihuahuas are OK for some . . . suggesting petiteness, frailty, vulnerability. They seem to evoke sympathy; they can fit in a purse, and they don’t eat too much. But they are way too trendy (too Paris Hilton) for a guy like me.
Now understand, we wanted to play the dog ticket too, but didn’t really know how. And we didn’t want to use a picture of just any old furry mongrel. Then the light bulb went on . . . it was so obvious—the answer was right before me. We decided to use Rocco, our six year old Airedale. He is honest, humble, handsome, hard-headed, very big (100 lbs.), and an absolute terror to uninvited solicitors who would erstwhile try to approach our front door. I guess another way of saying it is that he is sort of a symbol for a lot of the things I’d like to be.
I’d like to relate a little story now. These are Rocco’s words; it’s his perspective. “ I was out on my morning walk, trotting casually through one of Bend’s most prestigious gated golf communities. I paused for a moment to lift my leg and sniff the bunch grass that bordered the twelfth tee box. The morning was damp, the dew glistening on the freshly cut fescue. I admired the hillocks and the hummocks. I could have been in Scotland. Surreptitiously, I slipped away from my master. Then I ditched him altogether, and set off on my own. The day was mine now, the opportunities boundless. I trotted along, oblivious, but utterly at peace with myself. I was suddenly shocked out of my reverie . . . surprisingly (I thought they were all afraid of me!), a neighbor grabbed me, clipped me to his leash before I could even growl, and walked me back home. In presenting me back to my master, he said, ‘I believe this is your dog . . . I asked the neighbor kids what his name is. They said, His name is Rocco, but we just call him BARKO.’ “ A true story.