Of Cats, Bikes and Postmen………

This morning started out as most mornings for us, me on the iPad, kids watching the TV and my beautiful wife catching a few extra minutes of well deserved sleep.  Dogs are playing outside as they do.

Then the fateful words from my son “Dad, it looks like Coco is collapsing”.  I spring into action and yip there you are slowing falling to the ground, our beloved friend of almost 14 years.  I pick you up and you are jelly, and slowly lay you on your bed.  We call the vet; he will see you as soon as he is done with his operation.

I go outside and you are not on your bed, instead you are lying next to the dustbin. Why you like this place has always been beyond me, but there you are, weak and breathing heavily.  I feel the cold that you should be feeling and put you back on your bed.  The phone rings and it is the vet: “Bring Coco down now”

I go back outside and I can see that this is not what you want to do again.  As we look down you draw and few deep breath’s and you are gone. I have you in my arms and I cannot contain my tears, somewhere in the background I am aware of your human sister crying to.  She, as we all do, loves you dearly.  Karen, your human mom, is a rock and somehow manages to keep us all together and reminds us of how much life you really lived….

We remember finding you in the pet shop in Cavendish Square, all by yourself at just 8 weeks old, you were so thin I was convinced you were a Chihuahua . I even made the owner promise that if you did not grow any bigger I was going to take you back for a full refund.

Your teddy bear carefully chosen to provide you comfort which you kept with you always. Happily you outgrew it in a matter of weeks. You sleeping on Karen’s feet as she did the dishes. Linoleum floors in our bathroom were no match for your little puppy teeth. Did you ever know that we lost part of our deposit on the townhouse because of this?

You provided us with much laughter throughout your life, your love for the Knysna lagoon and your ability to want to run and run.  How you loved your walks, almost choking as you strained to great everyone along the way. I am sorry that I never took you for more.

You gave us some scares to, the most recently being your last.  I remember you having your cruciate ligament op and what a good patient you were.  You never really complained about anything.  You ate the same food for each season of your life and we were blessed to have seen you reach the mobility food.

Your patience in dealing with your first new puppy buddy, Rusty, and the next one Milo were something to observe. How you loved every new arrival that came into our lives and how you seemed to epitomise the very definition of unconditional love.  I am grateful as I write this that I am able to think about this lesson you gave probably without even knowing it.

So to end off, my Cokesta, I wish you many cats to chase, bikes to bark at and Postmen to annoy, you will be missed.