Rico: The Road Dog Who Stole My Heart
Being a truck driver means long roads, quiet miles, and sometimes, a heavy mind. But ever since Rico hopped into my life—and into the passenger seat—those miles have felt a little lighter, the days a lot brighter.

Rico wasn’t always mine. He grew up with a father and son duo in an apartment—no backyard, no open space, just the four walls of city living. They raised him from a pup, loved him the best they could. But life, as it does, shifted. The son was bound for the Army, and the father traveled so often that Rico needed something more. Someone more present. A new beginning.

That’s when I met him. One look and I was gone. Not just because he’s striking—though he is. Rico is a pure blue nose, but somewhere in the genetic lottery, he rolled St. Bernard colors and markings. He’s a walking conversation starter, and everywhere we go, people stop to ask about him. But it’s not just his coat that makes him special. It’s his spirit.

At night, when the truck is parked and the world grows quiet, I wrap him up in his blanket like a child. It’s become a ritual—mine and his. After a while, he shuffles over on his belly, tucks his snout beneath my arm, and lets out a sigh like he’s finally safe. Like the road isn’t so lonely anymore. For either of us.

Rico doesn’t just sit beside me—he rides with me through laughter, through long hauls, through life. He’s smart, deeply affectionate, and somehow always knows when I need a lift. He’s not just my co-pilot. He’s my friend. My family. My peace in motion.

I didn’t go looking for him. But somehow, he found his way into my story—and I wouldn’t rewrite a single word.