Week 10 - “Cooper”
In terms of pets you had over the years, Cooper was one of your favorites. He was a big, dopey thing who would thud about the house and scratch at the doors when he wanted out. You never begrudged him too hard for his mischief. Beyond his lively demeanor, he had kind eyes, an excessive drool problem, and hardly ever made noise. Your years together were some of the fondest with his endearing antics.
But like any good, loyal companion, age eventually wore on him. Now Coop had a limp in his gait, a disconcerting wheeze, and cataracts. You couldn’t stand to see him in pain and decided that his final days would be one of contentment, spent in your grandparent’s farm up north.
You let him amble in the fields, showered him with his favorite treats, and allowed him to sleep at the foot of your bed. There was no sense in not spoiling him.
When that fateful day came, you held Cooper in your lap, stroking his head. You gathered the sense that he knew the inevitable was drawing near. You didn’t want him to be afraid as he left.
He looked up at you with those gentle, warm brown eyes for the last time. Loosed a whine. You knew then how hard it was going to be to let him go, but it was the merciful thing to do.
“It’s okay, Coops,” You said sympathetically. “I hear you, old boy. I’m here.”
“Please…” He rasped, straining against your hold.
“Shhh-shh, I know,” You said, fixing the IV drip in his arm. “I promise it won’t hurt.”
His eyes gradually closed, and you felt him grow limp in your grasp. Tears blurred your vision.
“There you go. That’s it,” You choked, petting him through it. “Good, good dog...”
You don’t think you could ever find it in your heart to replace ol’ Coopy — and you wouldn’t. Like with Hazel, and Theo, and Jesse before him, you would make room. After all, you had a weakness for taking in strays.
