That was our little Cooper.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Not all four legged characters can be called angels.
We had three nieces and one nephew of Lisa’s with whom we enjoyed spending time together with. When they were young we would frequently offer to take them on overnight trips or simply spend the day together doing activities they enjoyed. Her brother and sister may have possibly appreciated having readily available babysitters, however those moments were actually more for our benefit than for her family. As each picture calendar went by the wayside and every year passed by at a faster pace than the last, the kids grew up quickly and before we realized were making their way through graduations and then college. The day came when they would become busy with their own lives and had little time to spend with their aunt and uncle, save to take advantage of an offered meal. We still enjoyed those precious moments whenever we had the opportunity, even though that meant have to endure listening to the trials and tribulations of young adulthood and giving advice which would never be heeded.
One of our nieces who was known by her nickname as ‘Sister’ (she was sister to the oldest sibling, a convenient term) had fallen in love with a Chihuahua which Lisa’s sister had brought home one day, deciding at first sight that the dog was intended for her and away she went. It was an obnoxious animal subjected to a complete lack of discipline. When they came to visit our home the Chihuahua would urinate throughout the house, leave small turds in the most convenient places, chewed through numerous shoe laces and computer cords, and the dog even destroyed several telephone chargers. Anything on the floor must have been considered fair game, considering she also chased our cats through the house. Worse, while most of our dogs put up with her antics, being larger than Cooper she would nip at his tail causing him to seek refuge on protective laps while he nervously watched every move the hairless made.
More than obnoxious, I truly believed that dog was the spawn of Satan.
CHAPTER NINE
On Saturdays I would head out to handle whatever errands needed to be taken care of including grocery shopping. While Lisa had little patience for taking the time out in checking off a shopping list, I had little difficulty in making my way down the aisles and would spend the time price comparison shopping and making sure my list was completed. I would arrive home several hours later to Lisa’s dismay, shaking her head in bewilderment as to where I could have possibly gone. Alternate Saturdays proved to be more of an adventure, and Lisa knew that when I said I was off to the pet shop for food and necessities such as litter that also meant my biweekly visit to the comic book shop and she would write off that afternoon.
My little boy enjoyed our time together following the ongoing sagas of the Avengers or the X-Men, and when my adrenalin soared keeping pace with the latest battle against some nemesis to prevent the destruction of the world, he was right there with me. Cooper was definitely a Marvel Dog.
The one task which I was bound and determined to complete was to find Coop a collar of this own. His small frame made such a simple chore nearly impossible, for most of that size I came across were either meant for female dogs and came in vibrant colors such as hot punk or intended for cats which would want no part of wearing them,
Not for my Cooper.
I persevered and one Saturday in early December I reached up and pulled a small red collar off the rack which was just the right size. A collar needed a name tag, so I picked out a nickel sized round one and simply had it engraved with his name and our telephone number.
Cooper had no complaint when I slipped it around that tiny neck and closed the clasp. Sitting back and proudly displaying his new collar, it was a picture perfect moment.
That was our little Cooper.
CHAPTER TEN
The day of Cooper’s surgery arrived, and I took him to the veterinarian’s office early that morning. We did not want him to be kept overnight at the clinic following his surgery and we had been assured by the doctor that he should be fine to go home at the end of the day, so Lisa would pick him up and take him home when he was ready.
Weighing in at five pounds, our boy was all set to go and I handed his leash to one of the technicians.
“Don’t worry Coop,” I assured him as he struggled against his leash while being taken down the hallway. “Mom will pick you up and I will see you later.”
I was thinking about our little guy for most of the day, for while I had complete confidence in the doctor there was always a certain amount of apprehension over the unknown which carried with it that nervous feeling in the back of my mind through the day. Lisa called me at work later that afternoon to let me know Cooper had 27 teeth removed and that both operations had gone well. His teeth were really bad, I thought to myself as I let out a sigh knowing our boy was alright.
Coming home that evening was the one and only time I did not see my little buddy waiting for me on the steps in the front foyer, rather I found him nestled soundly asleep in Lisa’s lap still recuperating following his grueling experience. I watched him as he laid there curled in a small ball, peacefully sleeping with only a slight whisper of a snore. Our little Cooper was wearing an outfit around his small frame, a tiny sweatshirt pulled over him which fit perfect.
“Recovery ‘jammies,” Lisa explained, she had bought the outfit to help keep our little boy warm. Coop loved his recovery ‘jammies and took to them immediately, almost insisting on wearing his new outfit all the time except for when we were upstairs.
Within the next hour or so our little Cooper rebounded and was back to his old self, even crunching on kibble which the doctor had said he shouldn’t eat for the next few days given a sore mouth and missing most of his teeth.
But there he was, happily chomping away without a care.
It had been an emotionally exhausting day for the two of us, not to mention expensive as well but the cost to take care of the newest member of our family did not matter. What was most important was that our little guy was healthy and hopefully the happiest he had ever been. For that we were happy
Cooper was full of surprises. That night as we settled down for the night we carefully arranged the blankets between us to make a secure nest for our little boy, same as we had done for the past six weeks or two. On this night however, Cooper decided to forego his usual arrangement and instead climbed atop the pillows at the head of the bed where he laid down above Lisa’s head. We both turned to face each other, waiting for one of us to say what the other would. Lisa broke down first. “Just like Chuck”, she whispered. I nodded back and smiled.
“Yes, just like Chuck,” I repeated.
Chuck had been our first dog. He had been a giant of a Yorkie complete with his own collection of unique character traits and one of a kind personality. He would wait for us every night, sitting in the window box in the family room of our old house, jumping down to race to the front door the moment the caught sight of us. When we moved to our new home, he was waiting for our cats to arrive following the moving crew and when we brought them with us that night he ran up to each of them, tail wagging to let them know everything was fine and that they were all home.
The most memorable mannerism Chuck would display nightly was sleeping on Lisa’s pillow directly above her head, and for the weeks that followed Cooper followed suit. People who had known us when Chuck was alive began to comment on little things they noticed and how our little boy reminded them of him.
But our little boy was not Chuck.
He was our little Cooper.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Saturday before Christmas was a hectic day of running about making preparations and buying last minute gifts. The one stop I would always make would be the pet shop, not to purchase cans of food or bags of kibble, but to get presents for our furry children. I picked up feathered balls, trinkets with bells and stuffed mice for our cats. Barkley would get a skunk, reminiscent of one too many encounters at night in our backyard. Curbie got a squirrel, po
ssibly the only one he would ever catch. Murphy’s needs were simple, he would receive a large woolen bone which he would promptly ignore. As for Cooper, he was the most difficult to choose for and I must have circled those aisles for more than one half hour before deciding on an out of place, small scraggly wire haired teddy bear. That would be for Cooper.
We were busy all day long. Sister had called asking if she could come over and spend the night so as we had no plans for that evening we agreed and looked forward to her company.
Her little dog too, the Chihuahua.
That evening was spent at home watching movies and takeout Chinese food for dinner, one of Sister’s favorites. We were fairly worn out by the end of the evening, so at about eleven o’clock I accompanied the dogs outside and when they were done we were ready to call it a night. The Chihuahua thankfully would sleep with Sister in the guest room.
Five o’clock came and went the next morning, but Cooper decided to wait until seven o’clock before waking me to do his morning routine which was fine by me. Our other three boys showed no interest in going outside so Coop and I ventured into the backyard alone. It was a miserable morning and freezing rain was falling with the sun sitting only on the cusp of the horizon. Needless to say, it was a quick pit stop my boy made before we came back inside.
Normally, Cooper and I would park ourselves in the family room and watch the early morning news, even if it were only five o’clock in the morning. This morning however, having had a long week at work preparing for year end, the thought of another hour or two of sleep appealed to me.
“Let’s go back up to bed,” I told Coop, and he didn’t argue.
It must have been several moments before eight o’clock that morning when the Chihuahua made her way into our bedroom. Without any warning, a frenzied commotion ensued on our bed and I remember yelling out “STOP!” while tossing over onto my back.
The room went silent and motionless, and it seemed as if an eternity passed before I heard that sound.
It was a sound I had never heard before, but one I would never forget.
I instantly sat upright and screamed “NO!”
There on the floor next to our bed lay Cooper on his back, motionless and staring up at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking. We both leapt out of bed and I knelt down by my little boy. Cooper was still breathing, so I gingerly lifted him up into my arms and cupped my left hand under his head. In the background I could her Sister yelling something and Lisa screamed for her not to come into our room.
There was an emergency veterinary clinic several miles away which would be open so Lisa and I ran downstairs, carefully cradling my precious and fragile bundle in my arms as Lisa wrapped a blanket around us.
“Don’t die Cooper,” I cried down at my small boy. “Please don’t die.”
We drove as quickly as we could down the icy and treacherous streets to the emergency clinic, jumping out and running inside where the staff rushed to help.
As I passed him gently into the arms of one of the technicians, Cooper died.
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