Obituary: Cooper (2006-2022)

The details of Cooper's early years are a mystery. It is possible that his life began in the Central Valley, where over breeding and inbreeding are rampant.  Cooper was lucky to be rescued from an over-crowded shelter and brought to the SPCA in Marin county. No one really knew how old he was but looking at his teeth they thought about 14 months. Cooper (he didn't have that name then, of course) was neutered and washed and fed. And he waited.

Fifteen years ago, on a random Monday, two people set out to find a dog. Those two people stopped at the SPCA in the morning, found nothing that moved them, and thus moved on.  They visited a couple of shelters in SF. None of the dogs spoke to them. They had lunch and drove back north, a bit disappointed they didn't find a dog that day but they knew there were other days and dogs ahead. It was close to closing time but they decided to stop at the Marin county SPCA, just in case a new dog had appeared.

There was one new dog that wasn't there when they stopped by earlier. He was small. He had tall ears. You could see those ears peeking up from the gate of his 10 foot run. The two people wanted to see him closer, so the SPCA attendant went into the run and she had a difficult time picking up the little guy and an even more difficult time putting a leash around his neck. But finally we were able to take this dog into the "visiting area."  He did not want to visit. He wanted nothing from us. He didn't want to walk on the leash, play with a ball, look at us.

One of us wanted him, even though he was the opposite of what we were looking for.  He was small, he wasn't social, he wasn't friendly.  But he needed us and I needed him. We took him home, realizing, on that car ride, that he was terrified of everything: cars, noise, overpasses (he would duck) and possibly air.

The first night was OK. I let him sleep on my tall bed and he slept well. The second night I put him on the floor and it was a battle for about 15 minutes: he was small but he could jump the four feet onto the bed. I put him back on the floor. He jumped up. Back on the floor, jumped up, back on the floor.  Finally I acquiesced. He could sleep on the bed. That was that.

His name from the SPCA was "google."  I changed it (very quickly) to Cooper.  Cooper slowly learned to trust a few people but in the beginning I had to leash him to a table leg to keep him from running away. My daughter tells about the time when she first met him: he was cowering under a chair. Knowing that her words would not work, Jenn sat on the floor next to the chair for an hour or so, just putting her hand near him, chatting to the rest of us in the room. Eventually, he came out and let her pet him for a few seconds before retreating back to the chair. 

Cooper, after about 8 months, was less terrified of the world. He never warmed up to kids (I am sure he experienced kids being mean to him) and he had a true sense of distain for most other dogs until he got to know them well. In our family, he met Hannah when she was about 6 months old (and he was about 20 months old) and they became fast friends. Cooper met Bebe in Texas and gradually accepted her, especially since she outweighed Cooper by about 60 pounds. (He knew when to pick his battles.)

We often called him the "gay professor" because he had that demeanor.  Cooper looked proper, especially when he wore his bowtie, and he looked wise. But he also looked a tiny bit gay. He wasn't, at least as far as we knew, but seriously, who knows? And maybe right now he is at Big Gay Al's Animal Sanctuary.  That would make us all happy.

Cooper hated car rides but he and I drove from SF to Texas many times. Cooper would put up with the drive because his reward was staying in a hotel. He loved hotels. He loved that they were not the car, that he could sleep on the bed and listen to TV while I went out to find dinner.  Cooper loved running down hotel corridors, chasing a toy, getting exercise.

Cooper had small legs, a long body and very tall ears. He had a jaunty walk and his confident manner made people smile out loud. "What kind of dog is that?" people would ask as we walked by.  "The good kind" was my answer. 

Cooper had no college degree, had no resume, didn't have a bank account, but he leaves behind a world of love and good energy. Cooper made me laugh every day and looked at me as more than his food provider. (Hmm, well, who knows about that!) I think Cooper was a discerning spirit, but for those to whom he opened his heart, the payback was huge. If you loved him, he loved you. Forever.

I loved him and will, forever.

Cooper leaves behind his owner, his aunties Jenn, Dar, Annie, Sue, his uncles Gabe, Steve, Tom and Mike and many others.  He will also be missed by many friends. The list is huge.

There will be a small burial service in a few weeks.