Joe saw her too. We shared a glance over her head. "She's the One!" we agreed. The sign identified her as Coco, approximately two years old. The only other information read, "Escape Artist."
When we told the boys we had a surprise in the car, Jakob thought it was food. He rushed out to find... Coco. His belly wasn't happy, but it was a joyful meeting.
"Escape Artist" proved an apt description. Left home during the day, she'd wander the Golf Course or the neighborhood. She's imposing, so it wasn't long before people complained. Joe tried keeping her at the office with him. His theory was she could sleep in the kennel behind the building. She didn't like that notion. Joe spent many an hour combing nearby neighborhoods looking for Coco. She could escape anything, it seemed. She was always delighted when Joe found her!
Eventually Joe installed the invisible fence. She learned her boundaries quickly, and contentedly explored them.
She loved the boys. Whenever Adam played outside, she paced a ring around him. If anyone came too close to her ring of love, she gently turned them away. No one was getting near her boy until Joe or I said it was fine. Jakob, a little more active and always hungry, had a different relationship with Coco. He liked to sleep on her; she didn't mind since he was so sticky and tasty.
Once Adam and I thought Coco would like to attend Pet Day at LME. Big Mistake. She outmuscled us and went to greet the other dogs; one owner screamed that Coco was trying to eat her baby. When we finally caught her, I tripped over the edge of the pavement, and she dragged me along the pavement. Adam thought she might be the reason Pet Day was subsequently discontinued.
Coco always missed Joe when he was away from home. She'd wander the house looking for him. She checked his favorite chair in the living room. Then she'd sniff around the front door. Finally, she'd make her way to the bedroom to check for him in bed. When there was no trace of him, she'd rest dejectedly on the floor. Hearing a noise in the garage, she made a mad dash to the door. Sometimes he'd come through it for a celebration of homecoming. Other times she waited in vain.
This morning our Coco couldn't get off the floor in the living room. Our best guess is she laid down there last night, and didn't get up again.
Joe said I should bring her to town and we'd go to the vet. Since she couldn't move, Jakob, Mari, and I lifted her on a blanket and carried her outside. She couldn't help, though she tried. There was something in her expression that said she wasn't coming home again.
We collected Joe and Adam. Knowing she'd do what she could to please him, Joe encouraged her to get out of the car. She made a valiant effort, but she was too weak. He caught her shoulders before she fell. She made her last journey on a stretcher.
Dehydrated and probably suffering some internal bleeding at the great human-year age of 123, there wasn't much to do for Coco, except let her escape her pain.
Joe was last to say goodbye to Coco. He knelt beside her for the last time and ran his hands over her beloved body, his hands cupping her face and stroking her ears. Both boys watched with breaking hearts.
The boys and I stayed with her until she made her last great escape. The nurse held her, and when they administered the drug Coco relaxed into that gentle hug. Her heart stopped and she took her last few breaths while our boys willed her their love.
The dozen years of life she shared growing and loving and learning with our boys will live with them always, and I think they will be better men for witnessing not only her life, but also her death.
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