A Child's Best Friend

My last post got me to thinking about man's best friend. Well, rather mine.Like I said before, we picked Cookie up one day when I was in the 5th grade in 1992 (she was born January 20th). I remember riding over to the breeder's house so excited. Mom had told us that when she was younger, she had a Peekapoo and it was the best dog she had ever had and she said that was the kind of puppy we were getting. I thought it was a funny name for a dog and said so. It was then that I was informed that a Peekapoo is a mixed dog...one part Pekingnese and one part Poodle.

We arrived at the house and walked into their backyard. We got to see the Mama doggy and the Papa doggy. The Mama doggy was a white Pekingnese and I thought she was so funny looking. The Papa doggy was a white Standard Poodle and so curly!

We walked over to where the puppies were at and I don't remember much about the other puppies, but I do remember the one that was soon to be ours. She was so incredibly black that you couldn't even see her eyes. Not only that but she was the runt...so much smaller than the others and so cute! She was the one that I wanted. The rest was pretty much a whirlwind. The next thing I knew, we were sitting in the car and I couldn't stop looking at her.

We had to come up with a name for her.

She had little pieces of white and caramel on the bottom of her feet. I said, "Maybe Oreo...because of the white." A friend that was with us, Erika, said, "I think she looks more like s'more."

Slight sidetrack...I just went to http://www.dictionary.com/ to find out where the apostrophe fell in the letters "s-m-o-r-e" when I found out that "smore" actually means to smother something. I mean, I guess the graham cracker is smothered in chocolate...still surprised that the dessert wasn't mentioned.

So, somehow or another the name "Cookie" was brought up and we all thought that was the perfect name for her.

Once, she went to sleep in my parent's bed. They woke up and couldn't find her. We were all scared that they rolled over her or something (she could literally fit in your hand) and squished her. We eventually found her between the waterbed mattress and the headboard...asleep peacefully.

She loved to play fetch (something our other dog Patches never quite got) and would run like a rabid dog all over the house if she went outside and it was a chilly morning. She would run from room to room, tail down. To get her going again all we had to do was step towards her. She also loved those chew rope toys and would bite one end and then lay on her belly with her legs and paws splayed out to the side. She wanted us to drag her around on her belly...the faster the better. The second we hit the tile she would jump up and prance until we got back to the carpeted areas.

Don't even get me started on the trampoline stories or how she was too good to walk on wet grass!

Anytime we would leave the house, she would run to the dining room window, prop up on her front two paws and watch us drive away with the saddest expression on her face. The second we got home (even if we had only been gone for a quick trip to the convenience store for milk) she acted like it had been years since she saw us.

For the next 8 years, she wouldn't leave my side when I was home. She was the tissue for broken hearts, she was the salve for parental arguments and she was so protective of Shawn and I. She was so little but if for some reason Shawn and I were getting in trouble and yelling ensued, she growled and barked her little head off. She stood up to my 6'2" Dad. That was interesting.

When I moved into my first apartment, I had really wanted to take her with me. We tried having her come over for visits, but she would bark incessantly. She would be better off back at her home with a yard she could run in. I mean, I still got to visit her when I went over to my parent's house which was quite often. She would always welcome me with a few licks and a whole lot of tail waggin'.

As the girl got older you could see the grey popping up here and there until eventually, that's mostly what she was....grey. Her hips started giving her problems and she liked to rest more. I still got warm welcomes, but they were a little slower. However, there were days when she acted like a puppy again and would start running around the house so excited, but man...after that...much hydration was needed!

I know that it was a hard decision that my parents had to make with her medical decline. Give her steroids that helped a great deal but caused internal bleeding and ulcers or let her live not being able to walk due to the pain, but no bleeding?? I think my Mom made one of the hardest decisions...and a very brave and unselfish one...to have her put to sleep.

While I missed her incredibly after I moved out...and even years after that. I am kind of glad that I wasn't there for the worst of it. I get to remember Cookie as she once was...the little black dog that would paw the door to sleep with me at night and take up half the bed. The Cookie who would pick up one ball of dry food at a time, walk into the living room to eat it and then walk back to her bowl in the kitchen. The Cookie who for some reason lift her leg to pee.

The Cookie who was the best friend that a girl could have.