I've known I was going to have to write this blog post for almost 2 months, but I wasn't looking forward to it. We've noticed her steady deterioration - especially since the first of the year. The Vet confirmed it. She didn't have long left. Our precious Chocolate Lab is gone. After 3870 days on earth, Cocoa expired Monday morning - a beautiful late winter day in the Keweenaw - 32° - bright sunshine - not a cloud in the gorgeous blue sky.
10-1/2 years doesn't seem like enough. We were hoping for at least 2 more years, but we're so happy she was able to spend her last year (shy 11 days) out here in the Keweenaw woods on Eagle Harbor Road. She loved it. You could see it. She was one contented pup.
Did I ever tell you about something she had been doing since Steve put up her new doghouse last fall? When it was "time for bed" (around 11 or 11:30 p.m.) and she was going into her doghouse for the final time at night, she would pause outside her doghouse and bark twice. It was like "Bark Bark" ("Good Night"). So cute. We're gonna miss that. We're going to miss a lot of things about her.
No more pooch tracks on the snow - no more nose prints on the window next to the front door - no more happy trips to the beach with her - no more peaceful walks in the woods with her leading the way - no more squirrel "hunting" - no more alarm bark to tell us when someone comes down our driveway - no more chasing away bears or deer - no more canine companion to walk beside us on the way to the mailbox - no more "help" when picking thimbleberries - no more friend excitedly running to greet us when we return from errands or from church - no more loyal buddy to follow Steve everywhere - no more chocolate nose to nudge our hands trying to get another pat on the head - no more paws to shake - no more velvety ears to stroke or tummy to rub - no more dark brown lump soaking in the sun on the front porch - no more loving brown eyes staring into ours - no more dog food or treats to buy - no more need for her insulated doghouse. The sign I made with her name on her doghouse will become her grave marker after all the snow melts.
Cocoa will be our last dog. After 40 years of dog ownership, Steve says this is enough. This was his best dog - my best dog - and she was our dog. We loved her - more than either of us had ever loved any other dog. We "reserved" Cocoa just before we got married and we picked her up when we returned from our honeymoon. She was sweet, obedient, gentle, good-natured, devoted, personable and people-friendly. Our Cocoa Puff was so stinkin' smart and chock-full of unconditional loyalty and love. We bid you farewell, Old Girl.
10-1/2 years doesn't seem like enough. We were hoping for at least 2 more years, but we're so happy she was able to spend her last year (shy 11 days) out here in the Keweenaw woods on Eagle Harbor Road. She loved it. You could see it. She was one contented pup.
Did I ever tell you about something she had been doing since Steve put up her new doghouse last fall? When it was "time for bed" (around 11 or 11:30 p.m.) and she was going into her doghouse for the final time at night, she would pause outside her doghouse and bark twice. It was like "Bark Bark" ("Good Night"). So cute. We're gonna miss that. We're going to miss a lot of things about her.
No more pooch tracks on the snow - no more nose prints on the window next to the front door - no more happy trips to the beach with her - no more peaceful walks in the woods with her leading the way - no more squirrel "hunting" - no more alarm bark to tell us when someone comes down our driveway - no more chasing away bears or deer - no more canine companion to walk beside us on the way to the mailbox - no more "help" when picking thimbleberries - no more friend excitedly running to greet us when we return from errands or from church - no more loyal buddy to follow Steve everywhere - no more chocolate nose to nudge our hands trying to get another pat on the head - no more paws to shake - no more velvety ears to stroke or tummy to rub - no more dark brown lump soaking in the sun on the front porch - no more loving brown eyes staring into ours - no more dog food or treats to buy - no more need for her insulated doghouse. The sign I made with her name on her doghouse will become her grave marker after all the snow melts.
Cocoa will be our last dog. After 40 years of dog ownership, Steve says this is enough. This was his best dog - my best dog - and she was our dog. We loved her - more than either of us had ever loved any other dog. We "reserved" Cocoa just before we got married and we picked her up when we returned from our honeymoon. She was sweet, obedient, gentle, good-natured, devoted, personable and people-friendly. Our Cocoa Puff was so stinkin' smart and chock-full of unconditional loyalty and love. We bid you farewell, Old Girl.
Things will never be quite the same around here, but. . .
All is still well in the Keweenaw.
All is still well in the Keweenaw.
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