Dana and I lost our best friend in early February 2022. Cooper moved in with us from Dana’s parents’ home in November 2020 at the age of 12 when he lost the use of his right rear leg and partial use of his rear left. Despite the negative prognosis, his lively and jocund spirit overshadowed any doubts we had about his ability to carry on an otherwise happy and healthy life. He wanted to play, he wanted to walk, and he wanted lots and lots of attention; the only difference was he just needed our help now. At first, it was an overwhelming task, as we were not prepared. So we got him a fancy harness to help him walk, a stroller to take him on bike rides and other adventures, new toys, and many towels and cleaning supplies. We told him it was our job to keep him clean, safe, and happy for as long as he wanted, and so we did – taking it one day at a time.

Caring for Cooper became a full-time job overnight, but one that we felt extremely fortunate to be able to do. Between vet appointments, physical therapy sessions, and chiropractic visits, Cooper had a large team of professionals helping with his care. At home, Dana and I would do his daily physical therapy, give him designated barking time (DBT) where he would sit on the couch looking out the window and bark at passersby, play ‘stair ball’, and we ultimately got him to enjoy taking his medication. Since he couldn’t walk, Cooper couldn’t be left alone. Not because he would get into trouble, but because if we weren’t in eyesight, he would absolutely lose his mind barking until we returned.

So, we rearranged our schedules and our house. We moved our bedroom from upstairs to the main level, I moved my home office to the living room, and Dana moved her craft room to the dining room and main living area. There, now we wouldn’t need to leave Cooper ever again. And so we stayed by his side all day and all night for 16 months. He slept on a memory foam mattress alongside our bed where we could check on him during the night, give him water, and help shift him when he wanted to move. When he was restless, Dana or I would grab a blanket and pillow, lay with him on his bed, and pet him until we all drifted back off to sleep. On my days at home, we would go for walks and play games between my meetings, and when Dana was there, she would work on the floor next to him while taking breaks to do puzzles and nap with him. Napping soon became “productive” as it was time spent on the floor with Cooper.

In the end, it wasn’t his lack of mobility, an infection, an illness, or even a broken spirit that took him from us. Cooper passed away in the early morning hours from hemangiosarcoma, an aggressive cancer for which he had surgery for in December, but recurred quickly thereafter. Following a visit with his vet, we knew our time was short, but we were still not prepared for how short it was. Cooper spent his final day with so many people that loved him. We woke up early and drove to the shack to visit Dana’s parents and grandparents. Cooper got to sniff around his old home and see the chickens. He went to the lake and got lots of treats from grandma. He got a long car ride with us where he was peppered with more love and treats and all with the privilege of none of us knowing what was about to occur. Cooper spent his final hours with me and Dana in our living room. We were petting him and keeping him as comfortable as possible. As his breathing began to slow, we told him how loved he is and how proud of him we are as we held his paws and said goodbye.

Dana and I deeply miss our best friend, but we can find peace in knowing how profoundly Cooper was loved by so many people. We know that nothing will ever fill the void his absence has left us, but we hope that his story will inspire others.