After Hulk Hogan died, his faithful dog Thunder refused to eat for three days. Everyone feared the worst. But on the morning of the fourth day, Thunder walked into the backyard, stared at Hogan’s memorial statue, and did something so heartbreaking, so incredibly human, that witnesses couldn’t stop crying. What this faithful dog did before he died will leave you speechless! – tammy
Few people know that in the final years of his life, after retreating from the spotlight, Hulk Hogan wasn’t alone. He shared his quiet Florida home with a child—not a fan or a fellow wrestler—but a pit bull named Thunder, a dog he personally trained to be his final “sparring partner.”
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Thunder wasn’t just any dog. Hogan adopted him from a Florida rescue center, where the staff warned him that the animal was “too aggressive to be adopted.” But Hogan, who had faced giants in the ring, just smiled and said:
“This kid just needs some good training.”
From that day on, every morning in his garage, still adorned with championship belts from his glory days, Hogan and Thunder would “wrestle.” He set up foam mats, taught Thunder to jump on cue, and even gave his simulation moves names like “Dog Punch,” “Tail Spin,” and “Thunder Drop.” The dog learned quickly, almost unnervingly, and became the only real joy in Hogan’s long struggle with illness and aging.
Thunder never left Hogan’s side. When chemotherapy weakened the legend, Thunder remained motionless by his side. When Hogan lost his voice, Thunder barked at the door. And when Hogan wrote the final lines of an unpublished memoir, his final sentence read:

“If I had to accompany someone one last time, it would be Thunder.”
When Hogan died, Thunder stopped eating for three days. The maid was afraid he wouldn’t make it. But on the fourth morning, Thunder quietly came out into the backyard—where Hogan once placed a small statue of himself—and lay down before her. No growl. No bark. Just staring up at the sunlight filtering through the trees, as if seeing his best friend for the last time.
They say that that night, Thunder let out a single howl: long, low, and full of sadness.
Since then, every year on Hogan’s birthday, Thunder returns to that statue. He sits before it, his front paws outstretched, as if he’s entering, waiting for a companion who will never return.
