All Dogs Go to Heaven

When I took Luke out this morning, I noticed that a mini-Cooper pulled over and a man got out. It took me a few seconds to recognize my neighbor. He slowly walked towards me and said, "I wanted to let you know that Cooper died". Cooper was Luke's good dog friend. Cooper: A dog with a nano sec of energy to say hello, then would saunter to his place on the hill to watch the festivities. Cooper: A dog who believed that a hearty game of fetch involved a person, at close range, throwing a tennis ball directly at him (he may or may not be tempted to catch). Cooper: Lover of mud pies, head scratches, and all treats. Luke and I loved Cooper, and we will miss his momentary phrenetic run, and aloof yet loving energy. After Steve told me the news (lung cancer took Cooper quickly), he leaned down and hugged Luke. He asked Luke to catch a few balls for him. Even though it was a soggy Seattle morn, I took Luke to the park. We played fetch, ending with me asking Luke to sit. I took three steps back and threw the ball right into Luke's muzzle. Luke dropped it silently. For Cooper. For all the good dogs in Heaven.

RIP. We love you, Cooper.