Brown Dog.

Dad called Dave this morning while we were having lunch with some friends. Dave took the call outside. They had to put Cooper down this morning.

13 years and 1 week.

That's how long she lived. Sweet Cooper- she was a great dog- but its not exactly how good she was but what she represented to me. See, I came home from college from freshman year in April. A month too soon- due to my struggles with depression- I was losing at the time.....and I remember thinking "what on earth am I going to do with all this time and nothing to do?" I wasn't due to work at camp til the middle of July- so after much deliberation my parents had agreed to get me a puppy. Sadly, our 2 Springer Spaniels both died on the same day just the August prior- about 2 weeks before I headed to Clemson. My parents, more than I, knew what puppyhood was like but I was just thankful for a distraction from the tears.


Fast forward 13 years later- my 3 girls love her- Mom and Dad kept my girls just this past weekend, and on Saturday when we picked them up to head back to Charlotte, we stayed a little late for Cooper's birthday- she was now a teenager as Celia pointed out. We decked out in hats knowing it might be her last birthday- she wasn't in the best health, but we weren't sure how much longer she had.



As we were leaving we had explained to the girls that they needed to make sure that they said goodbye to Coopy because she was old and sort of sick. The bigs were ok- but Milla sat by her and cried- "Coopy, you always die....I pray every night you (not) die." Milla loved that brown dog enough for all of us- sweet Cooper let her climb all over her.


All this week Camilla was asking about Cooper, more so than normal. We kept telling Camilla we didn't know when Cooper would die and just Thursday Mom was telling her that maybe she'd be with us a whole lot longer but God knew what was best....

Tonight we had to tell them that Cooper died. Clearly, Camilla took it the hardest- I hate how much she knows about death already- I hate that for 1/3 of her life death has been a regular topic of conversation in our home- yes it has its benefits- it keeps us eternally mindful, but its just sad to see my sweet almost 3 year old cry at death- really knowing what it means- thankfully not to the degree that some friends know but still, in her little almost 3 yr old brain she knows its finality on this earth.

So tonight I'm sad- thinking about that brown dog- how in my years since having children I didn't delight in her as I once did- and also wishing I was with my mom.

The timing is just crazy because tomorrow we are going to get our own brown dog- it was already arranged- its just that it doesn't make it all better. But that's life, right?