Mr. Cooper

I am very sad to say that one of my favorite dogs that I ever walked or spent time with passed away last night.
His name was Mr. Cooper.
He was a Doberman Pincer of about 11 or 12 years, which is extremely old for his breed. He had beaten cancer in his lifetime, and somewhere along the way lost all of his hair. Petting him was like petting a shark with it's scaly skin. I loved him to death. He was always so cool to spend time with, as he seemed to be wiser than most people that I know. He was the Clint Eastwood of dogs.
The first time I walked him, I sat outside his house reading his information sheet before going in. I was a little bit intimidated, but intrigued all the same.
His info sheet said "Doberman", so I was naturally a little apprehensive. Then I saw his age, and felt a little better. The info sheet said, "He has lost all of his hair, but he doesn't seem to mind." I laughed.
The next bit always seemed a little magical. "He will bark at you until he sees that you have his leash in your hands. When you get him on leash and take him outside, he will show you the way to the park." I was confused, but my interest was piqued. I went inside, and he dutifully barked at me from a distance...this bark was the stifled bark of an old man who still was trying to be intimidating, knowing that he wasn't really. He might have been saying, 'Get out of my house you gall' derned kid you!". I got his leash and the hostility left as his little stub of a tail wagged in delight.
We went outside, and he was a man with a purpose. This is a video I took of us walking to the park about a year ago.

He knew exactly where he wanted to pee, and where he was pulling me to. I let him take me where he wanted to go.
It was several blocks to the park, and his steps and stops were the product of years of repetition. He had his little places to visit that he checked in on every time he came to check on "his" park to make sure everything was in order.
When we got to an actual park, I laughed a little knowing that I had no idea where I was walking, since I had never been in this neighborhood before, but was relying on a dog to take me to a place that he knew. It was kind of cool.
We walked through the park as he thoroughly examined it, making sure his favorite place was still ship shape. After a complete examination, he felt satisfied enough to move on and lead the way back to his house.
I was in love with this old man.
This routine never got old for either of us, and we enjoyed each other's company immensely. I even pet sit him on several occasions when his owners were out of town.
These were my favorite pet sitting visits. His house is where I saw the movie "Sideways" for the first time. I would blast the demo for Nevermore at high volumes and dance around the house. He seemed to approve. When it was time for bed, he took on guard duty at the bedroom door. I was amused. He stood watching the doorway for about 10 minutes, then sat down for 5, then he fell asleep. At this point, I fell asleep. Some time later, I was awakened to him climbing in bed with me. Now Mr. Cooper was a dog of some considerable size, so this was no small undertaking, but I scooted over. He looked at me for a few minutes, and I wondered whether he wanted me to go watch the door for awhile. I decided not to, and he was fine with that. As far as pet sitting or dog walking went, you couldn't ask for a better dog than Mr. Cooper.








Time does march on, and Cooper was not a young pup. Time ravaged his body in the past year, and many times we thought that he was going to leave us any day. He became crippled, and was no longer able to walk to his park. We had to basically carry him down to the yard to simply pee, and that was exhausting to him.
The last few times I visited him, I cried. He would no longer bark as I entered, as he needed my help to get him up off of his bed. He would simply tremble for a minute, knowing that he was helpless against me, if I were to bear him harm. I would go down on the floor and hug him, and he smelled that it was me, and I would carry him out. I took these pictures one of the last times I visited him.
The last walk that I had with Mr. Cooper was Friday. I was astonished to see him get up by himself and greet me. I was overjoyed, thinking, "See! You are definitely getting better!" and knowing that he could not be. I still carried him down the stairs, but instead of a quick pee, he wanted to go further. Not to the park, but to the back yard. He even pooped, a thing that he hadn't done on a walk with me in a long time. I was so proud of him.
Before I left, I gave him some extra cookies to chew on. I hugged him and kissed his snout and said goodbye.
Every time that I said goodbye to Cooper, I knew that it might be my last time, and cried. For some reason, I didn't cry the last time.
He was happy.
He still is.
He's gone somewhere where he can walk again, run again, bark again, and maintain his glorious park. I will never forget this wonderful creature who I had the honor of caring for. I liked him more than most people that I know.






Missing you here, Mr. Cooper,
Love, Steve