My little buddy is gone

R.I.P. Cooper, 2003-2012

Last night, my Mom called to tell me that Cooper had died in her arms at about 7 PM.  He had been a healthy, if not rather overweight, miniature dachshund with big brown eyes and the softest, smoothest fur I've ever felt.  She said he had gotten sick after my brother's birthday party the previous evening, throwing up and peeing everywhere.  She stayed up with him all night and he seemed to be doing a little better in the morning, but that evening, he went to the Rainbow Bridge.  They're planning to have him cremated today or tomorrow, and it pains me that I will never get to see him again on this Earth, whole and intact.  The next time I go home, he will be nothing more than ashes in a box on the mantel: no dog will run to greet me when I walk through the door.

I will never again get to sit with Cooper outside in the morning; when I still lived at home, we would sit out on the back steps while I had my coffee and Cooper stood guard beside me.  I'll never get to touch his velvety ears or the soft patch of fur just before his nose, never get to look into those big brown eyes, never get to kiss him on his little blackberry nose.  I'll never get to hear him grumbling and ranting because he wasn't allowed outside while the lawn was being mowed (he sure loved to ride along on the riding mower, though!).  I'll never get to lint roll his fur off my shirt again.  Dachshunds are notoriously stubborn, but I taught him "sit" and "dance" and "go get it" and he wouldn't respond to the commands unless I gave them.  I was hoping that he would get to ramble around our new house and give his sniff of approval to everything; we don't close until next month.

I'm grateful that I was able to see him a little less than a month ago.  I visited my family around the end of May and when I left, I told Cooper, "Bye bye, puppy. Be good! I'll miss you."  That's the last memory I'll have of him.  Is it morbid to want to see his body at the vet?  To see him one last time in the flesh, even if it's cold and lifeless, before he is gone forever?  My Mom said he died with a smile on his face, a smile I've seen thousands of times but only remains in pictures.  All I have left are pictures, memories, and paw prints all over my heart.

I love you, little guy.