It hardly seems possible, and I'm still in shock, but it's true. Cooper is gone. Emma is all alone now. She has been grieving for Tara, and now she has lost her brother, too. Cooper has--had been having asthma-like problems for months now. He had xrays and bloodwork in December, and had been on a couple of different meds until we found the combination that worked for him. He has--had been stable, only having episodes when he was excited or scared, like during a thunderstorm. This morning he was fine, ate his breakfast, got into his usual mischief, then all of a sudden he couldn't get enough air. We tried to calm him down, but nothing helped. We rushed him to the WonderVet. He gave him a couple of shots, put him on oxygen, then took xrays. His lungs were worse. Much worse. End-stage-disease worse. Despite everything the vet could do, every breath was a struggle. For the second time in two weeks, we made the hardest decision in the world. But also for the second time in two weeks, there was no decision to be made. We could not allow him to suffer. I can still hear his gasping struggles to breathe. I will hear them until I die.
Cooper on the day we found him, June 19, 2008. He was 9 years old at the time.
Cooper helping with the dishes, and breaking the dishwasher door in the process.
Cooper helping mommy knit.
Cooper at mommy's work.
Cooper enjoying being an inside dog after a lifetime of being outside
Cooper, my boy, my little man.
Four years with Cooper was not long enough. No matter how long they are with us, we never have these beautiful souls long enough.