Over the summer, my family lost a very important member of our family: our dog, Cooper. Cooper, a yellow lab, was only four years old when he passed away due to an unknown cause. He died quickly and extremely unexpectedly and his death absolutely crushed me.
Ever since he was a puppy, he was my dog. We got him the summer after I finished eighth grade, about six months after my other dog, Shadow, passed away. We got Shadow when I was only two years old, and I was always jealous of the way Shadow seemed to absolutely adore my mother. When he passed away, I regretted not spending more time with him, taking him for granted, and not recognizing how important he was to the atmosphere in our house. When we convinced my parents to get another dog, I promised myself that I would be his person the way my mom was Shadow's person.
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I spent the entire summer raising and training Cooper, because my parents and my older sister were always at work anyways. I spent long days training him and looking after him, and even though it got annoying that I had to spend every single second taking care of him, I had the best time raising him and seeing him grow. I took him for walks, spent time outside with him, and spent hours playing with him. I continued to spend a lot of time with him as he got older, but it got much easier as he learned the rules and lost some of his puppy energy.
I had become his person. I trained him, I spent time with him, even if we were just napping, and it almost seemed like we could communicate. I swear one time I literally said, "Go away, Cooper," and he did. One time I told him to bite my brother, and he did (I'm sorry about that, Andrew). He loved every member of my family, but we had a special bond, just like my mom and Shadow had.
So when Cooper died, I felt like I lost a part of me and my best friend. People would always comment on how well-behaved, smart, and happy Cooper was, and I always prided myself on the fact that I raised him and that he was mine. He was the happiest dog ever, and he made everyone else happy too. He brought the sunshine into our lives, and even though he would sometimes act up and eat my glasses, I was so grateful for him and I loved him so much. I don't think I'd ever loved anything or anyone so much, and when he died, I didn't think I ever could or would again.
I was crushed by his death. I remember telling my mom that I never wanted to get another dog again, and that I regretted getting Cooper. At the time, I didn't feel like all those good times were worth the extreme heartbreak I felt at his death that was unexpected and extremely painful to watch. I also hated dogs in general at the time. I remember seeing a dog right after my mom told me the news, and with tears in my eyes and rage in my heart, I pitied that dog owner. "Just wait until you feel this way," I thought.
I used to even get mad when people would talk about their dogs. Whether it was positive or negative, I hated hearing about dogs and I hated that people were so insensitive as to talk about their dogs when I just experienced the death of my own.
When I came to college, everyone complained about missing their dogs. I hated it because I missed Cooper too, but unlike everyone else, I would never be able to go home and have him jump on me and lick my face with joy. I would never see him again.
I started to forget about him, though. In college, I didn't have any reminders of him, and I didn't have to live in the house where I have to be in the places where we spent so much time together. When I went home for Fall Break, I found one of his toys under my bed. I hadn't thought about him in so long, but I realized his death didn't bring me as much pain and rage as it used to. Of course, I missed him to pieces and would give anything to have him back, but I had a realization that even though his death was extremely painful, he was so worth all of the tears, fury, and sadness.
He was an amazing dog, and I gave him the best life a dog ever had. I spoiled him every day, and I spent so much time with him. He was so happy, and he made us so happy. Sometimes, my family and I still talk about him, and now, it makes me smile instead of cry. His life was a blessing, and now, I know I'd definitely like to have more dogs in the future so I can give them the great lives and form intense bonds with them too.
Cooper changed me and made me grow as a person. He taught me how to love and enjoy every moment in my life, because who knows how long we have? I always expected him to live until thirteen or so, just like Shadow did, but he died at the young age of four. He taught me to love strongly, wholeheartedly, and that the pain is very much worth it.
