See You in a Little

Shepherd/lab mix. Sweet, calm, will play but really just wants to be with you.

March 16, 2024

The adoption listing read something like that. We had met several dogs who did not match their descriptions, but this one did. He walked along peacefully beside Adam on a leash even though he outweighed him. New Albany Pet Rescue brought him to the house to visit. He seemed so big in our house, but the sweetness. He was ours.

He had probably lived outside before. He was scared of slippery floors. He did not do steps, except for the ones into the house. He was skittish about cars. So, we walked and walked, for the exercise and to map where he lived now. He loved his walks. He was calm and sweet.

He would come into our house but no one else’s. My sister-in-law Carol and I set out to acclimate him to entering other homes. We put magic carpets (aka rugs) all over their place when we visited, time after time until he got used to it.

While Copper came with a clean bill of health, it turned out that he struggled with GI issues. Adam and I still laugh about the first day we had him when he pooped on Adam’s Croc and it was so runny we thought it was urine. It took us a while to sort out his problems. There were times he ate fabric because of the retching problem that was part of a swallowing disorder. I found myself wearing gloves and sorting through his poop with two sticks looking for elastic. There were other times he had diarrhea every 45 minutes all night, but he never had an accident in the house. I slept on the couch to be close to him when he wasn’t feeling good. He would never join me on the couch, even when invited, so I would sleep with one arm over the side, resting on him. In 2016 after special bloodwork, an endoscopy, and a swallow study, we finally had enough information to get him on a good maintenance program. As long as we stayed on top of things, he was in good shape. That preceded Adam’s diabetes diagnosis by a couple of weeks, and boy that was a lot of management for a while. But I was up for it.

He had the patience of Job with the pair of kittens we brought home. And the second pair of kittens. He was calm and sweet and easygoing.

Copper was a regular fixture around the neighborhood from our walks. I have lost count of how many people I met who said to me “I always see you walking with your dog.” I always replied, “Yep, that’s us.” The other dog owners all knew him, just as I knew their dogs. I remember the year before last when I was running in the ravine, and I saw my morning friend Jenny. I didn’t know her name yet at the time, I only knew her as Stella’s mom. I was going by her walking alone and I said “Good morning” as I always do. She told me, choked up, “I have to put my dog down today.”

I stopped on a dime and said “I am so sorry. Can I hug you?” She nodded. I hugged her for a long time. I stood there with my arms around her until I felt her sigh. It was a cool, humid morning, with temperatures in the 60s and I was already pretty sweaty.

Just as I was wondering if I was holding on too long, she said “Thank you for that.” I told her “I am embarrassed, but I don’t know your name, only Stella’s. I’m Cass.”

She said, “I’m Jenny.”  We talked about not only the bond we have with our dogs but how much they are a part of our identity. How many people know us because they see us walking our dogs. How empty it feels to take a walk alone. We understood each other in a way that other people might not.

Copper left us today, suddenly. He had been off for a few days. Sunday night he crawled under the dining room table to sleep, which was strange. Monday morning, he did not get up and ask for his food, although he did eat it when I put it out. He did not meet me at the door when I came home like he usually does. He did not ask for a walk, although we did take a nice one, at his pace. On Tuesday he was better, asking to eat and take his walk, but still not himself. But, he did eat two entire donuts on the walk. Today, he and Ron had a nice walk. Later, he got sick and declined rapidly. When I got home, he couldn’t get up. We carried him to the car and headed for OSU Veterinary Medical Center. He was gone by the time we got there. I had my hand on him, and he stopped breathing as we turned into the medical center.

I cannot say enough nice things about the staff at OSU. They met us at the door when we arrived, confirmed that he was gone, offered us a room to say goodbye to him, to have Adam come, and they arranged for his cremation.

It was sudden, but what a blessing to take a good walk on the last day of his life, to decline over a few hours and fade away hearing “I am right here, bud. It’s OK.”

When he first came to live with us, Copper was nervous when we left. In training him to be apart, I would say to him “I’ll see you in a little,” even if I was going outside for five minutes to get him used to being alone and understanding I’d always come back.

As we left OSU, I told him one more time.

We had a good run.

You’re the very best dog.

I will see you in a little.