We put CoCo to sleep on Friday evening. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I don't know that I've ever been so sad. I don't know that I've ever cried so much. But it was the right thing to do. She was ready. We were not ready to let her go, but she was ready to go.
I can't imagine the pain people feel when they lose a child. I am so very sad, and I only lost a dog. Except, she wasn't "only a dog." She was my girl. My baby. My child for 12 years of her life (I got her when she was 6). She didn't know she was a dog. She was a small person, wrapped up in brown fuzz. We miss her terribly.
I want to write down some of my favorite memories of her, so I don't forget. I'll share them here. If I can see through my tears.
The first or second day I had CoCo, at Virginia Tech, I took her to the barn. On a leash, as I didn't know if she'd stick around or not. I had to do something outside so I left her in the tack room. A few minutes later I looked down to see a little brown dog at my feet. She had apparently been whining at the door. The girls let her out and she ran outside to find me. She had become, in those two days, mine. Faithfully, totally, mine. (Later I found her allegiance didn't run deep. She preferred women to men but preferred the person who gave her food to all others. Leave her with someone for the weekend and she'd happily latch on to them and ignore me when I returned.)
I had a cat at VT for a while, who lived in my shed outside. Damned if I can remember her name. She and CoCo had an "if you ignore it, it does not exist" relationship. CoCo left her alone. Unless I said "get the kitty." At which she would cheerfully chase the cat across the yard and right in to the shed. Poor kitty. Same at Sweet Briar. We had two kittens in the house with us for a while. CoCo ignored them completely. Unless they were outside, and she was told to get the kitty. Oh, kitties. Beware.
CoCo hated my sister's dog, Wilson. He would try and try to get her to play, and she would sit and stare at him til she couldn't take it any more. Then she'd run after him, snapping and barking, while he high-tailed it for safety. Imagine CoCo, all 20 pounds of her, chasing Wilson, all 80 pounds of him, he with his tail tucked between his legs.
CoCo was a peace-loving kind of dog. She didn't do violence. People wrestling at a volleyball game would send her over the edge, barking and biting ankles. Pretend to hit me? She'd jump up (on me) to help protect her mom. One day Joseph (he was like 2 years old at the time) kicked some sand in the indoor ring while CoCo was standing there, and she about went after Joseph - how dare he kick sand! She never really had to be protective of me, but I think had I ever been in trouble all 20 pounds of her would have been there, fighting tooth and nail to save me. One night a trucker came in to the barn to pick up a horse. He was a "close talker" kind of a guy. He was walking down the aisle next to me, with CoCo trailing behind, when she suddenly bit him on the ankle. I don't blame her a bit - I'd have done the same to the man if I could have.
When I was moving out of the house at Sweet Briar some of the guys from the maintenance crew helped me pack up my stuff on the moving van. And CoCo spent the entire time biting their ankles, too. How DARE they move her mom's book case! How DARE they touch her couch!
CoCo was an excellent judge of character. The second or third time John ever came to Sweet Briar to visit me, he was in my bedroom studying while I was in the living room, decorating a Christmas tree. I looked around for CoCo, didn't see her. Checked the bedroom and there she was, on the bed with John. A man. Who didn't feed her. Right there I knew that I could keep him around. If you got the dog's seal of approval, you'd get mine, too.
For the first several years I was at Sweet Briar CoCo would follow me around faithfully. I could never hide in a horse's stall, hoping to escape the 20 zillion questions from students and staff. They could always find me just by looking for CoCo. Then a funny thing started happening. CoCo would disappear for a couple hours at a time. And where was she? In the main office, next to the softie office manager, Anne. Who fed her like six biscuits an hour. So CoCo soon spent the business hours in the office with Anne, and the after hours wandering with me. The mom who didn't feed her biscuits. I cannot say that my feelings were not slightly hurt by this!
For a couple years at Sweet Briar CoCo would go on trail rides with me. It was entertaining to watch her bound through the fields of tall grass - you couldn't see her at all, just the grass waving around. And then one day she chose to come with us on a seven mile ride - it was a mini competitive trail ride. And she bit off a lot more than she could chew. Poor old pup (she was at least ten by then) was sore and downing baby aspirin for days. And poof! That was it for my trail riding companion. After that she would wait for me at the end of the barn, watching down the driveway in whichever direction I left from. It was always fun to come back from the opposite direction and sneak up on her...
CoCo had a bit of a short dog complex. She liked being up on things. She slept up on the bottom shelf of a book case, instead of on the floor. She slept on the top of the sofa. She jumped up on hay bales. She watched me riding in the outdoor ring from the gazebo - it gave her an extra two feet of height.
CoCo was an excellent hiking companion, as long as I was at the front of a group of people. Otherwise she'd run ahead to check things out, then weave back around people's legs to check on her mom, then run ahead again, then weave back. But she always enjoyed herself, and she was an excellent rock climber. I swear the dog had velcro on her paws. There was not a rock wall she could not climb.
CoCo was the Dog of Honor at our wedding. She walked down the aisle with my sister. She lay on my dress during the ceremony. She walked back down the aisle with John and me. Our own new little family.
It's CoCo's fault that we got a king size bed last year. It's incredible how much room a 20 pound dog can take up on a bed. And she always, always started the night on John's pillow. He'd walk in from brushing his teeth, look at her, sigh, and pull back the covers a bit. Usually she'd get up and move, slightly, down toward the bottom of the bed. Then John would have to quick jump in to bed and claim his space before CoCo came back up in between us.
I think, had CoCo been younger, she'd have been protective of Dexter. We just didn't bring him home til she was in her "stay away from me, I am sleeping" stage of life. But she tolerated him so well. When he became mobile, and could crawl over to yank on her hair she'd look at me, kind of roll her eyes and sigh, and get up to move somewhere else. One time he grabbed her when she was sound asleep, and I thought for sure she'd reach back and nip his hand. But her head whipped around and she just sniffed him. Didn't get up to move. I hope she was one tenth as fond of him as he is of her. Dex squealed with delight every time he came in to the house and saw CoCo. Or any time she got up some energy and ran from room to room. He thought she was just so cool.
My favorite memory of Dex and CoCo happened about a month ago, after I put some toast crust on the ground for them to share. John shook his head every time he saw this. Why would I cut the crust off the toast that I was giving to the baby, only to feed it to the baby? I told him it was really for CoCo. Dex was just stealing her toast. Anyway - CoCo had a piece of toast crust hanging out of her mouth, and Dex grabbed it right away from her. She was completely unphased - just reached down and grabbed another piece. A couple days later he had some crust in his hand, and reached out toward CoCo's head. She happily and gently took the crust right out of his hand. Hey, baby - look! You ARE good for something! Thanks!
CoCo meant something to everyone she really knew. She was their CoCo Puff. Their CoCo Buns. Their CoCo Bean. Their Fozzie Bear. Their Ewok. Their CoCo Beware. Their CoCo-mo. I was not Alissa. I was simply CoCo's Mom.
I posted on Facebook the other night that CoCo had passed away. An outpouring of nice comments followed that post. My favorite and most eloquent comment came from CTB. Who always knows just the right thing to say. She said "Thanks for taking such good care of my Alissa, CoCo. You were an amazing friend."
This face is quite the distraction...
Distracting the small child from the fact that we're still eating a whole lot of yummy Easter Brunch, even though he is "alldone". With some awesome nesting (or in this case, stacking) blocks.
Cute Easter baby.
Nonna, Dad, and Dexter leaving Easter Brunch
Dex wanted to play on the golf cart path
Wheee! A slide!
Dex just recently discovered the joy of pushing the stroller. He usually pushes from the front. And if the bar is down when he wants to push, he picks it up and flops it around a bit, looks at you, and signs "help." HELP. Perhaps the greatest, and most annoying, sign I have taught him yet!
OOOOH. Bubbles!
Typical boy was trying to figure out how the bubble maker worked. He was trying desperately to do it by himself...
But ended up just eating it instead.
Unwrapping Grandma's Easter basket. That's a lot of purple paper to eat!
Bunny sippy cup.
The boy can multi-task. Push buttons on cool book AND chew on sippy cup at the same time!
A Slinky, a Slinky, oh what a wonderful toy!
Getting a push from the Zukors
Just when I thought Dexter couldn't get any cuter, he went and put some shorts on. OMG! Now I can't even look at him and his already scraped up legs without squealing at his cuteness.
I mean, seriously. How ridiculously cute is THAT?
Dex and John play the Belly Button Game. Mom does not partake. Her belly button is broken, thankyouverymuch.
Getting some lovin from Nonna.
And isn't that the truth.