Upon her passing, I am moved to jot down the wonderful memories about this vivacious little Papillon—a female, Joey, named for a baby kangaroo. So tiny when my daughter Kristin brought her home, black and white with huge fringed ears, actually looking more like a character from the Gremlins movie.
Through the years she had many call names:
Coco, she was French after all
Coco La Hara, a diva derivative from Gone with Wind
Coconut, she could act a little nutty
Miss Skeeter, for her high energy, flitting and skittering around like a mosquito
Cujo, though she was petite, she was the omnipotent Alpha Dog
In her 16 years in our multi-animal family, she lived with many dogs and cats of various sizes and temperaments, always reigning supreme over them all—being fierce when she had to defend herself, never shying away from other dogs, no matter their size or behavior. She could make a German Shepherd cower, and she did, in obedience school when she was just a puppy. The dog owner told Kristin, “You better keep your dog away from my dog.” To which Kristin replied, “No, you need to keep YOUR dog away from my dog.”
Unfortunately, for any beloved pet owner, that day presents itself when a decision must be made. It must be unselfish, caring more about their life than the impending pain of our loss.