Copp passed on last Friday afternoon.
The only dog who's ever been a part of our family.
The only dog I've ever loved with all my heart.
Copp, who suffered from cancer, was having a difficult time last week -- and his condition wasn't improving -- so we felt that Friday afternoon would be the right time to put him down.
In the final hour, mom, dad and I sat around our beautiful Golden Retriever, petting him, looking at photo albums and recalling some of his greatest memories.
I even pulled out a poem I wrote about Copp for a creative writing class my senior year of high school. Before I give you my favorite Copper memories, here's that poem in its entirety.
MDC - This poem is dedicated to my dog, Copper
"Damn" I accost the front door thinking.
physics calc and Spanish tonight
IM SCREWED......
And then I glimpse him.
Wagging that tail so hard it could kill a baby.
crying in joy like an adolescent figure skater after scoring 6.
Eyes gleaming like those of a 13-year-old boy watching a nude scene
MY DOG COPP
Golden fur as silky as Aunt Lilly's napkins
tongue hanging like kids in the park off jungle gyms.
ears pointing up like satellites to space
MY DOG COPP
He never fails to amaze,
from when we first picked him
out of a hundred begging dogs
cramped in cages smaller than my bed.
MY DOG COPP
He drinks out of a bowl "half full."
Walks with a wondrous waggle
Always loves me,
lacks lament -- one hundred percent.
MY DOG COPP
He'll lead me on adventures through
burr-stabbing woods
down mud-riddled paths over green grassy knolls
Screaming down trails chasing brave n' dumb squirrels
yet always retreats to check on me
MY DOG COPP
He'll lick pimple-scattered face as if it's ice cream
raise eyebrows in search of beef
you can conclude by the eyes
so caring and loving
MY DOG COPP
We hike together
Swim with each other
and play tug o war with spit-covered shredded-to-pieces toys
MY DOG COPP
He's there for me when I'm struggling.
He's there for me when I'm distraught.
He's there for me when I'm....
NOT there to take him out or feed him.
A wag of the tail.
A wink of the eye.
An electrifying bark.
A sniff of the shirt.
With school erased from mind
I kneel down to scratch his head
its all love in the air
Hey, Copp, wanta go for a walk?
FAVORITE MEMORIES FROM ALMOST 7 YEARS
We got Copp from the Humane Society on September 18, I believe, of the year 2000. When my family first laid eyes on him, stuck in that cramped cage, it was love at first sight. He was so handsome, so perfect.
Yet our dog-person relationship didn't exactly take off from the beginning. I'll never forget the afternoon in Hunt Park when he began biting the leash inexorably, scaring me silly and forcing me to drop the tattered leash. My sister, Rose, and I were able to bait him back to the house, but I must admit that at that point, I didn't want to keep Copp.
But that sentiment didn't last long. Thanks to dog obedience school and the infamous prong collar, which we didn't have to use for very long, Copp and I became best friends. Seriously. I'm not just being clichéd. Copp was the one creature outside of my parents who I could always count on to be my pal, to hang out and go for walks as long as it wasn't thundering (T-storms scared Copp silly).
My favorite general memories from an incredible seven — way too short — years spent together:
-- going for walks to Barton Dam, where I'd let him off the leash and watch him swim several times.
-- arriving home from wherever, whenever and being greeted by his crazy wailing cry. Bust and Mom tried to stop his habit, but I quietly hoped Copp never would cut out the crying. It was sweet.
-- the humping. OK, at times it may have been embarrassing to the family when Copp jumped on the back of some innocent friends of ours, gyrating against them, but I thought these episodes were hilarious. Only Copp. Only Copp.
-- the expressions. Copp had some of the quirkiest expressions. His best was when you'd stare at him for a long period, invariably making him self-conscious. To let you know about this, Copp would move his eyebrows up and down, rolling his eyes the entire time.
-- his friendliness. I know it sounds shallow, but Copp was simply the most innocuous, friendliest creature of any kind I've ever met. He didn't have a single bad bone in his body. He genuinely — yes, I'm talking about a dog; but I believe this — loved everyone around him. I never thought of Copp as "just a dog." He was always much more.
-- playing keep-away. Copp was never the fastest dog. I'm sure if he could have talked, he'd have admitted this. But this deficiency didn't keep him from playing keep-away with Bust and I on countless nights in Hunt Park. Once he got the frisbee/football/whatever, he'd dodge between us like Barry Sanders before we eventually coaxed the object from him (usually just after he became disinterested).
-- watching him put anything in his mouth. Throughout the years, Copp became infamous as a socks thief. Whenever someone would arrive home, he'd become excited, and he'd need to put something in his mouth to go along with the enthusiasm. Usually he'd find some dirty sock lying around. However, Copp didn't just go for socks. In fact, over the last year, he became especially fond of my collection of hats. Tigers hats. Winter hats. You name it. He'd grab them off the couch and calmly sink his teeth into them (although he'd never cause them any more pain than drooling on them). Copp loved having an object in his mouth, whether it was a sock, a rag, a hat or a stuffed animal.
-- taking him to New Hampshire. I don't think Copp was a big fan of our trips to Sandwich, N.H. For one, it was a lot of time sitting in the car in addition to a few days in the Red Roof hotel room in Philly. Then, in N.H., the walks just weren't as special as they were at Bird Hills and Barton. Still, Copp did have some great times out east, including a few rides on pontoon boats when we were able to coax him to jump into Squam Lake. Good times.
And now, I must present a few of my favorite specific Copper memories:
-- the hike up Whiteface. This has to go down as Copp's greatest achievement. In the summer of 2005, my cousin J-bo and I took Copper up the 4,000-foot mountain named Whiteface outside of Sandwich, NH. It was the most difficult climb Copp ever experienced. We had to help him up steep cliffs and over huge boulders. We had to take a 5-minute break to let him rest. But Copp made it to the top, a grand accomplishment for a dog as big as him (nearly 100 pounds). He was absolutely smashed when we returned to the Red House. He conked out on the carpet for several hours. But he had done it. He had conquered Whiteface.
-- the earring episode. I credit Copp for allowing me to realize that earrings aren't all they're made out to be. In high school I thought it was "cool" to get my ear pierced, get a little fake diamond stud hanging off my left lobe. But then one evening Bust and I were playing keep-away with Copp, and as Copp ran swiftly between us, Bust and I butted heads (including me left ear). The earring was pushed into my lobe, requiring a minor surgery at the neighborhood clinic. It's safe to say I've stayed away from earrings since.
-- the first jump. It took us awhile, but finally we were able to coax Copp into taking flight. When Copp first jumped off the pontoon boat in New Hampshire it was a sight to see. The actual leap was, of course, preceded by several minutes of him pacing up and down the boat crying, but once he was in the clear Squam Lake water, there was no more whimpering, just frantic doggie-paddling.
-- the last day. As sad of a day as it was, I could still tell that Copp was with us, that Copp would never leave us. His eyes were always so telling. He wasn't wagging his tail or showing any signs of happiness — he really was miserable — but I could still see my dog through his eyes. He hadn't left us. Five days later, I still catch myself thinking that Copp will greet me at the front door after a long night at work, that Copp will be there to take me for a walk — and a reprieve from everything else — during the afternoon. I think it'll take awhile for me to get over this.
And that's perfectly OK. I don't ever want to forget Copp. He was that special of a dog.
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