I was fortunate enough to grow up with my first dog, Copper. A chocolate Labrador with big brown eyes and magnetic personality. I was just a year old when we picked him out.
Throughout my kindergarten and elementary school years, I looked forward to seeing him every day when I got home. From the bus stop, I could hear his bark echoing down the street. He knew exactly what time I’d arrive. As I walked up the driveway, right on schedule, there he’d be. Propped up on his hind legs, big olive nose pressed against the window.
Before I even turned the doorknob, he bolted to the door in .5 seconds flat. I could barely get in the house without him jumping up and licking my face, sometimes he’d even knock me over. I didn’t care, though; I loved how over-the-moon happy he was to see me. As I patted the top of his head, he’d look up at me with his big warm eyes and rich copper-colored face. An energetic, high spirited, friendly puppy he was.
From the second I entered my house at 4 p.m. until dinnertime, we would play outside (depending on the weather, of course.) I have to say; he was pretty great at soccer...until he’d accidentally pop the ball with his teeth.
As I approached my pre-teens, it became all about my friends, soccer practice, and the latest dramas of middle school. I had less time and interest in playing in the backyard for hours but Copper and I still had our time together, going on walks and taking naps.
I walked up the driveway one day, I heard him bark but couldn’t see him at the windowsill. His hind legs weren’t supportive as they used to be because of his arthritis that came with age. Like every other day, I came through the door dropped my backpack I patted the top of his head. I looked at his once copper-colored face that was now gray and tired. He still had those familiar, warm eyes, though. Those never changed. We were both getting older. But what I hadn’t realized was how much quicker he was aging than I was; I was 14, while he was 91 (in doggy years) but still a puppy at heart.
Going to high school, it was all about transitioning into young adulthood with new responsibilities, new friends, and of course- boyfriends. Copper was there for it all, though.
High school is no walk in the park. No, he couldn’t give me advice on how to deal with best friend fights or breakups. But the way he placed his head on my lap while I sat there crying gave me a comfort that no one could ever give me. He didn’t know what was wrong; he just knew something was wrong. He endured my pain with me and stayed until all was right again.
Sometimes you don’t need someone who understands the world; you just need someone who understands you. And for dogs, you are their world. When you’re happy, they’re happy. When you’re sad, they’re sad. They feel everything you feel even more deeply.
October of my sophomore year of high school, my bus pulled up right on schedule. When I stepped out, something was wrong…it was quiet. I couldn’t hear Copper’s barking. I didn’t see him waiting at the front door.
I walked inside to see my teary-eyed parents. I knew by the expression on their faces what was happening, but I couldn't believe it. Before they had the chance to say anything, I searched the house, desperate to find him. My mom quietly says, “He’s gone.” As my heart sank to the floor.
I never cried so hard. I lost my lifelong friend. I cried, but this time, I didn’t have his soft fur to cry into. I missed that silent comfort, realizing how the childhood we shared together is now over.
For a long time, the house felt empty. Time goes on, though. You never really get over it; you just get used to it. I’ll always cherish the memories with my first best friend. All those days spent waiting for me to come home; he had been watching me grow up. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, and months turn to years. I’ve thought about him every day. Over fours years later I still miss having my Copper to come home to.
What I’ve come to realize now, is how much he taught me about love and friendship, how they come in all forms. I wish dogs had more time to spend with us, but God didn’t build them that way. Perhaps because us humans need a lot more time to figure out life and how to love others more than they love themselves. Dogs already know how to do that.
Never forget to appreciate your dogs each day for the love and loyalty they have to offer you. Don’t take it for granted, because they only have so much time.
To us, they’re a part of our life; to them, we’re their whole life.
Rest in peace, Copper.
5/28/1997 - 10/11/2011
