Namely Marly

We had a lazy weekend morning recently where we sat on the newly built deck (thanks, honey!) and enjoyed the start to our day. It lasted just until the mosquitoes came out in full force (yes, mosquitoes begin their attack even early in the day in our neighborhood).

The deck was a long time in coming and we were grateful to be at a point where we could finally enjoy it. But I don’t think anyone is enjoying it as much as Coco.

Perched up near the gateway to the yard, he finally feels as tall as he thinks he is.

From this vantage point he can peruse the yard and spot any critters that need to be chased.

Or at least think about it…

Mostly, King Coco seems to prefer some sort of Jedi mind manipulation, signaling squirrels to beware. At least that’s what I imagine he’s doing because he does a lot more looking and ear twisting  than actual chasing.

We love the new deck and we know it will bring many benefits, some expected and some yet to be determined. One bonus we hadn’t anticipated was that our deck would become the throne for King Coco!

This is Jack. We think he is some type of spaniel mix.

He has boundless energy.

My sister dubbed him a love-sponge. As much loving as you’re willing to dish out, he’s happy to soak up. And look at that picture — he’s clearly not ashamed to beg for more.

I like to describe him as half spaniel and half crazy. Truth is, it took me awhile to warm up to him because he can be such a pain. He doesn’t look like he would be a PITA (Pain in the ass), does he? Don’t let his hypnotic love-gaze fool you. He is.

The first round of evidence against him is that Jack is an escape artist…of an extreme variety. We think that might be how he ended up in the dog shelter in the first place. We can’t let him in the backyard without a leash because he can jump our 4-foot fence…like a gazelle. We’ve lost count of the number of times he’s found ways to dash through doors, gates, or whatever. And once he’s out, there’s no catching him, although we run frantically after him. He’s trained us quite well and as a result, we haven’t had an escape in over a year.

He’s also got a death wish. He once ate an entire plate full of my best vegan chocolate-covered peanut butter balls. That particular death-wish was two-fold because he had to deal with my fury (do you know how much work it is to make peanut butter balls?) and chocolate can be a fatal food for dogs. Not to worry. I might have been miffed, but I would never hurt him (do you think he knew that?). And it was a miserable night for us all but Jack got all of that chocolate out of his system in one form or another (if you catch the smelly drift).

He is a hassle, that Jack. But there is something charming about him. He is for sure the first dog that I felt would protect me. That’s because most of the time he’s fearless. He’s brave. He’s even regal!

Except when it comes to thunderstorms. I’ve actually seen him quivering with fear at the sound of a storm in the distance. Oftentimes we won’t even know what he’s upset about because the storm is so far off that we can’t hear it. But his dog-ears can.

And we’re in the midst of thunderstorm season right now. In fact, one crawled through last night. I’ve usually been the one who had to get up early in the morning to head into a highly stressful job. As a result I wasn’t always the most patient person when Jack would come to my side of the bed wimpering in the night. So when Jack came to my bedside last night, I did my usual ignoring him bit.

I’ve heard that’s what you’re supposed to do. Don’t coddle them because you’ll only intensify their reaction. But then it dawned on me – hey, I quit that ridiculously stressful job and I don’t have a day full of meetings tomorrow. I can take the time to help Jack through this tonight. And I did. I stroked the back of his head; scratched his ears. And it helped. He actually ended up forgoing his cushy bed so he could sleep right next to me. Ahh, that felt so good! From time to time he would sit up so I could reassure him some more. And then that was it. The storm was over and he eventually felt secure enough to go back to bed.

He still goes spazzo and barks like a madman at the mailman…or the rabbits…or UPS truck. What is with that UPS truck? The sound of it drives him bonkers! But even with all that craziness, he has nuzzled his way into my heart and now Jack and I are best buds.

It’s not easy naming a pet; usually a lot of thought has to go into it. There are even websites to help people find the right name for their pets. I’ve had two dogs during my adult years. The first was a golden retriever named Rusty. His coat was a dark golden, so the color of rust as a name seemed appropriate for him. I had Rusty in my life since he was just a puppy and he was with me through some very impressionable times – including the birth of my daughter, going off to graduate school, starting my own business and lots more. He died when he was a little over 10 years old. Needless to say, I was down for quite some time.

People told me I needed to get another dog right away. I didn’t. In fact, I waited almost a year. That’s when I got Coco.

He’s a Westie and although I thought he was adorable, we didn’t bond right away. I went through the motions; fed him, played with him, walked him, etc. But in the end, Coco was not Rusty.

But then it happened. I think it started when he began bringing me a little toy in the morning. He wanted me to throw it so he could go chase it and bring it back. That is just too darn cute!

We don’t do the traditional Westie grooming; we have him shaved in the summer. But I like it when he gets this moppy kind of look.

And he likes listening to me play guitar.

The next thing you know, I’m head over heels.

That being said, you’ll understand how upset we were when he ran away recently. We let him out in the back yard to do his thing, but we didn’t realize the front gate was open. By the time my husband went back 10 minutes later, Coco was nowhere to be found. It was dark, cold, and he’s a little guy. Oh, and did I mention he doesn’t like to come when he’s called…especially when he’s wondering around free?

We took off in separate cars combing the neighborhood, calling his name. It’s December here in Missouri and it was a cold night. I wondered how much longer we could go on looking for him and I wondered how he would make it on his own over night. The situation was bleak.

But then it happened. My daughter caught a glimpse of something moving from the corner of her eye. Could we get our hopes up? Is it possible it could be him? She saw the movement again. “I think it’s him, mom!” she exclaimed. I certainly hoped she was right. And she was. She opened the door and called his name, and he came running. He was covered in burrs, but we had him back. I think he enjoyed being a fugitive for an hour.

If you’re wondering about the name, Coco is short for Coconut. We call him Coco. We also call him Dogba because he is like our own little Roomba, foraging the floor for any tidbits that might have fallen to the ground. Every now and then, I like to throw the “nut” part of his name in too. Coco the Nut (like Jabba the Hutt) or Coconutty; whatever comes to mind. Now he gets a new title. Just as Gandalf the Grey goes on a journey and comes back as Gandalf the White, Coco the Nut has returned as Coco the Fugitive.