Why does the good always come with the bad? Seems to be the way life goes. As you all probably know, Mickey Rourke’s famous and beloved pooch Loki died today. Many of you wrote in with the news. Kris Tapley over at InContention wrote a nice little remembrance of the dog:
It was October, at the Four Seasons hotel here in Los Angeles. I was set to interview Rourke and was waiting for him to finish up with another journalist when this creature with a bloated gut (which needed to be drained) waddled up to me, struggling to see through her cataracts-inflicted eyes. She seemed a bit down, not sure what to do with herself without her master for a half-hour.
In walks Rourke and before he turns the corner so I can see him, I hear his voice: ‚ÄúHey porkchop!‚Äù Loki livens up immediately and moves ‚Äî as fast as she can ‚Äî over to the iconic actor, who announces that he‚Äôs starving and needs to eat something before we start the interview.
Rourke comes over to the table and sits down, preparing for yet another bombardment of queries, breaks open a baked potato and starts eating. ‚ÄúI need some carbs,‚Äù he says, before finishing his portion and lifting Loki up to finish off what was left. The meal a distant memory based on the specks of starch left on the plate, Loki walks in a couple of circles on the table before collapsing right next to my audio recorder for the duration. And boy could she snore.
Mickey went on to tell me how earlier in the afternoon they had lost the dog in the hotel‚Äôs pool area. His publicist confirms that the actor was indeed quite upset. ‚ÄúI was ready to burn this place down,‚Äù Rourke said jovially. He loved that dog.
I think you have to be attached to your pets to understand the heartache.