Reflection « There’s a hipster in my latte

Cooperface!

I don’t want to be writing this now, almost at midnight, alone, not about something fun like food or cooking or traveling. I would much prefer to keep this full of fun and engaging posts.

But it’s been almost a week since my mom called me at 6am to tell me that our family dog, Cooper, had died suddenly, and I think I have moved fully from shock to grief.

It sucks. I’ve cried about six separate times today. I am trying to deal with this and my only recourse is to write it and share his life the best I can.

I have never known a dog that was more beloved, or radiated more love, than Cooper. He was the biggest, most gorgeous golden retriever you’ve ever seen. Everywhere we went, his entire life, people stopped us on the street and said, “oh, what a beautiful dog!” He was always smiling – not just a dog smile, a real smile — and all he wanted was for people to pet him and mind him and love him. And everyone did. I can take comfort that he lived a full, happy life, surrounded by people who loved him and that he was always treated like a prince.

One of my favorite photos, Cooper with his tiny friend Ollie

He wasn’t even nine years old when he died suddenly in his sleep last week. Just the day before he had been happy and full of energy. We don’t know what caused it — could have been a heart attack, or a hidden cancer too deep to spot. At least he didn’t suffer at the end, and for that I am infinitely grateful. In his entire life, he never really had to suffer ever, except for pained looks when we didn’t give him table scraps or some minor stomach discomfort when he ate something he shouldn’t have.

Everyone says losing a dog is like losing a family member, and it’s true. Our family is missing a piece without him. It’s hard to imagine what my parents and younger brother are going through, since they have to live in a house that’s now missing the sound of his collar as he runs up the stairs, missing his muzzle shoving into your hand because you weren’t petting him enough, missing his paws scrambling into the kitchen at the sound of an apple being sliced. I’m dreading going back to the house and having to face the fact that I will never see my dog again.

I know we’ll get another dog someday, maybe even soon. None could ever replace Cooper, and none of us would ever want that. But once you’ve opened your heart to that kind of love, it’s hard to live without it in your life. If you have or have had a dog or a pet you loved dearly, of course you know what I mean.

I just hope it gets easier. Because this is so, so hard.