My best friend Cosmo
|1.9.2002 - 30.11.2014|
|Nicknames:||Cos, Gorge (short for gorgeous), little mate, shorty|
Red Kong ball (indestructible), the beach, hugs, pats, snuggling.
Boundless energy, devotion, beautiful eyes, intuition, lovely soft fur.
It was just us for 12 years.
We learned everything about each other, we were in sync, we anticipated each other’s every move. I hadn’t realised how much you were entwined with all my routine daily tasks, and how you brought joy to the most mundane things, like hanging out the washing (oh yes - she’s going to throw the ball to me while she’s doing it!) or going to the supermarket (great – a ride in the car!).
I loved your big personality – you were great fun to live with. I love that you snatched a sock if I left one in your reach and would stand there taunting me, growling, holding it in your mouth, letting me know the only way I’d get it back was to chase you all over the house. And I had sung a silly song to you as a puppy which, after I had to go away for a few weeks, you reacted to by jumping from the floor into my arms when I came home and ensuring I was thoroughly licked and climbed over. I had no doubt that you missed me. Ever since your song evoked a similar response. Even when you became very sick, you cheered me up by acknowledging my bad singing with a faint tail wag.
It was always funny to watch you jump up at the TV barking at animals, even dashing into the room when you recognised the music of an ad in which you knew they would appear. And you’d often take me by surprise if I’d been sitting at the computer for a while, leaning over the back of the couch so you could poke me in the back with your wet nose.
I walk down to the beach now and it is just a walk. It is no longer the most exciting thing that could possibly happen! The endless energy you had for dropping the ball on the shore and letting the waves pick it up and spit it out somewhere else. And if you couldn’t find it again immediately you’d look to me for help and I’d either point to it or shrug my shoulders so you’d know what to do next.
I was so fortunate to have had such an intuitive friend. I loved you enormously.
It seems so strange not to leave my last bite for you, or to wake up without you pressing your bum into my back or trying to lift up my feet with your nose letting me know in a less than subtle way that you were getting impatient about breakfast. I miss your chin snuggled into the crook of my knee when I lie on the couch watching TV.
Last week, I felt like I wanted to throw the ball to you one last time, so I took your plastic ‘chucker’ and a tennis ball down to the dog beach. In 12 years and the thousands of miles we must have walked along the beach paths I have never seen dolphins. And there they were, two of them, swimming right passed where your final ball landed.
I hope that they were there to let me know that you were OK.