Dogs were not part of my childhood. My dad had dogs as a child and I think my mom’s dad had them too when she was a child, but neither of my parents were what I would call “animal people.” My sister liked cats because they were soft but she had allergies so a cat was not an option. After much begging, while in grade school, I finally received a blue parakeet as a gift from “Santa.” I named him Chipper. My mom took an interest in him and taught him to say my name and a few other things. I remember being shocked the first time he said my name. My mom had worked with him for weeks while I was at school in order to surprise me!
Then, when I was 15, my dad was transferred to another city for his job. Chipper could not go with us. We found him a home with a young lady who had a bird aviary in her home and was planning to be a veterinarian. We would be leaving the only home my sister and I had known, as well as friends and family. My parents promised that when we got settled in our new home, they would consider getting us a dog. (Bribery? Maybe).
After we moved into our new home, a friend of my parents said he knew of a dog that belonged to breeders… and was being mistreated. The people bred Teacup Black Poodles. The dog being mistreated was too large… she was an oddity from the litter because she was the size of a Miniature Poodle and they could not sell her for premium dollars. Also she was not pure black. Their friend took my dad to see her and he brought her home, although she was terrified of men! It was a man who was abusing her. But for some reason, she trusted my dad. We fell in love with her and named her Coco.
Coco was smart and learned quickly. She became a very important member of our family. Most poodles bark a lot! While Coco did bark, it was usually for a reason… like the doorbell. She would lay on the top step of our staircase because she could see all of us coming and going. That was her spot. She slept on the bed with one of us.
My mom bought dog clippers and she, my sister and I all learned how to groom her. She got a bath once a week and we kept her trimmed. She was very patient and let us make her pretty!
She traveled with us and was even allowed inside the “no dog zone” of my grandmother’s house because she was so well behaved.
When I got married, Coco stayed with my family. My sister was in college and my parents by then could not bear to part with her. Several years later, the wisdom of this choice became clear when my mom was nearly killed and suffered brain damage in a car accident. When she came home from the hospital, Coco stayed by her side constantly. She had no specific training, except lots of love, and thus she became an unofficial “Therapy Dog” for my mom.
I don’t remember exactly how old Coco was when she died, but I think she was 14 or 15 years old. She was my first dog and will always have a special place in my heart. She modeled unconditional love for everyone in our family.
Part 2 coming soon: Never a dull moment with “Brandon”.
Stay tuned!
Grace Notes 