A Tribute- Part II

Our beautiful Copper was with us for over 12 years, so he deserves a proper eulogy.

Copper

"We are just going to look, we are not going to buy one today".

Back in 1999, I was working the night shift and talking about life as a newlywed when a coworker said "You guys need a dog. There's a posting in the break room for some chocolate Labs for sale". I thanked her for the info and planned on mentioning it to my husband soon. The next day I was pleasantly surprised when he agreed to go see the pups, so we called and got directions to the home. He reminded me as we left the house: "We are just going to look, we are not going to buy one today".

Two hours later we were on our way home, with me in the driver's seat of my husband's truck, and he in the passenger seat cuddling an 8 week old, fuzzy brown puppy wrapped up in a towel. My husband was all smiles. The pup was terrified. The puppy peed all over him, and my husband just cooed and giggled at how cute he was. He chose the perfect name: Copper.

Life with a puppy was scary! My husband ran out that night for food, a bowl, a kennel, a collar, a leash, and a stuffed toy while the puppy and I stayed home and sized each other up. I didn't take my eyes off of him, watching for him to pee in the house. He couldn't stop looking around, trying to figure out where his litter mates were. By the time my husband returned with all the doggy fare, I had just about decided we'd made a bad decision. We both worked night shift-- how would we sleep in the day? Wouldn't the puppy be scared while we were gone? What if he hates his kennel? What does he eat?

And that first night didn't do much to calm my worries. Copper cried all night. We had him in his new kennel with some blankets and a toy, but he wanted his mama. We took turns getting up to soothe him but it was one long night.

I took him to the vet the next day. She told me everything I needed to know about puppyhood. Feeding, chewing, grooming, obedience training, boarding-- all things I hadn't thought about, and I was very thankful. The vet that day would later be the same vet who took care of us all on the day of Copper's passing. I take so much comfort in that.

Copper was an awesome puppy. Anything we tried- he learned right away. Sit? No problem! Potty? Where's the door?! Swim? Sure, let's go! Car ride? Hmmm, that one took a while. He was car sick in the early days, and jumped out of a moving car (once and only once) but after that he was always up for going somewhere.

Copper also learned our vocabulary, and there were certain words we couldn't say around him without getting a response. We had to stop asking each other "Honey, are you hungry?" because we always got a 4 legged friend at our side in response, tail wagging, YES! as an answer. We also couldn't say "Go, treat, bye, swim, park, or walk" unless we were directly speaking to Copper. If anybody accidentally said "walk", you'd might as well grab a leash and put your shoes on, because he wasn't going to let you forget it.

Over the years Copper also became a top notch food thief. He could sniff food out anywhere and he wouldn't stop until he got it. We had to put all food either in the pantry or up high on top of the refrigerator so he wouldn't press his big nose in it. One year I hosted a holiday dinner which featured turkey as the main course. Halfway through dinner I heard a crash in the kitchen, and turned just in time to see Copper running through the house with one large, greasy turkey carcass locked in those jaws. He also made off with a whole box of candy corn, a loaf of bread, uncooked sweet potatoes, a whole tray of ham roll ups, and a peanut butter pie in his day. He loved any kind of party, because he knew he had a good chance of patrolling the tables for food while the attendees were otherwise occupied. But I think the funniest food episode for me was the morning I came downstairs to find plastic on the living room floor. I couldn't figure out what it was, and the more I looked, the more I saw. They were candy wrappers. I had bought individually wrapped peppermints for Christmas and put them out in a holiday bowl. Sometime during the night, Copper had eaten every single one, but left every single wrapper.

Copper also ate plenty of non-food items. He ate my husband's wedding ring. My husband's wallet. A pack of pencils. A tray of CD's. Q tips. Toilet paper off the roll. Our dining room table leg. Every blanket that ever went into his kennel. On and on I could go. Thankfully we never had to rush him to the vet for any blockages in that solid steel gut of his.

When he wasn't eating, he was working. He was always on patrol. Copper alerted us to any bump or knock that could be potential danger to our house. One night he growled softly, just enough to wake us up, in the middle of the night. We shushed him and went back to sleep. The next morning we found that our truck had been broken into right in our driveway. We learned from then on to take him seriously. I can safely say that in the past 12 years, Copper never let one doorbell ring or door knock go by without alerting us with a string of howling barks followed by a floor shaking trample to the door. As much as it drove us crazy, I miss it now, and I feel a little less safe without him here.

But above everything else, Copper was a teacher. He taught me to loosen up a little. He showed me that no matter what happened out in the world, I always had unconditional love at home. He showed me that dogs have more senses than we humans could imagine or even understand. They just know things. Copper knew when we were packing up to go on a trip, and he was the most excited one of us. He knew when we were sad, and he would lay his head on our knee in sympathy. He knew when people around him needed extra care- he never pushed a baby down, never jumped on an elderly person, and never complained if someone wasn't quite as aware of him. My dad called him the smartest dog in the world, and I have to agree.

About 3 years ago, Copper started showing signs of old age. He couldn't jump up in the truck as quickly, he hesitated before heading up the stairs, and he couldn't swim in the lake for as lng as he once could. I worried. I panicked, actually. What on earth were we going to do? Copper wasn't supposed to get old. I'd say my worries played a big part in my decision to bring home a stray in 2009 (Cami). She is a terrier mix, a completely different personality from Copper, but something about her stole my heart. Turns out she was really good for Copper. She kept him young, she made him play even when he didn't want to. She teased him and barked at him and got him moving when he might have just laid around all day.

Having her here now is helpful, but Copper's presence is definitely missed. No one barks when the doorbell rings. Nobody woke us up when it stormed the other night (Copper HATED storms). Nobody barks at the back door to remind us to let them in. And nobody wakes us up in the morning to tell us to get up and put food in the dog bowl. Cami is just a different personality than Copper altogether. She's special in her own way. But Copper's absence is definitely felt.

Someday when Cami starts to show signs of aging, I'll probably be compelled to rescue another dog. Call it what you will, I can understand how that seems cruel- looking for a new dog when the primary dog starts to get old. But I don't see it that way. I just keep thinking back to that day in November, 1999, when my husband said "We are just going to look, we are not buying one today". Because that is the last day I went without having a dog in my life. And even with the raw pain of losing Copper and the tremendous ache in my chest right now that just won't seem to go away, Copper taught me that my house is not a home without the love of a dog. And so we will carry on and honor him by always opening our hearts and home to dogs that find us, and I will always be thankful for the chance to love a dog like Copper.

Until I see you again, rest in Heaven buddy.

A Tribute, Part I

He was such a beautiful part of my life, he deserves a fitting obituary. A eulogy will follow, but this is all I can manage right now.

Copper

Our beloved Chocolate Lab, Copper, passed away on Monday, January 16, 2012. He was 12 years, 3 months old.

Copper was born September 25, 1999 in Mooresville, Indiana. We brought him into our lives in November 1999, one month after we married. Since his canine parents were AKC registered, we named him "Miller's Bright Copper Penny" for fun, to make his name regal and important. But he was really named Copper after Disney's "Fox and the Hound".

Copper loved swimming, riding on the boat, barking when the doorbell rang, road trips, long walks, and trolling the kitchen for food.

Copper never knew he was a dog. We didn't treat him like one. He was a family member to us. He was smart, funny, kind, and gentle. He was a constant source of love and comfort to all who knew him.

He spent his last months resting and passing on his duties as family guardian to his little sister, Cami. He welcomed our son into our family with us, and was forever patient and kind as little infant hands and feet climbed on him and pulled his ears or nose.

His passing was peaceful but heartbreaking. We thank everyone for the calls, texts, messages, and thoughts.

Olive You Copper