a dog ' s life

Cooper, New York City, 20071.Thursday morning, I woke up, got my kids ready and took them to school. I came home, tidied up the rest of the dishes, and gave my dog Cooper an indulgent breakfast: a full can of her favorite soft dog food —not just a quarter of a can mixed in with her dry food like usual, but the whole thing, every last bit, all to herself. After she finished, I carried her to my car. We drove to the vet, where a kind receptionist showed me into an exam room, past a potted ficus plant and a cheerful wooden sign rea ding, “Think PAWS-ITIVELY!” I sat down on a bench. Cooper stuck her head behind my knees.And then we killed my dog.2.Cooper was a really old dog. She lived to be fifteen and a half, which in human years would make her (let ’s see, multiply by seven, carry the three…)a million. Our dog was a million years old. Approximately.We ’d adopted Cooper from the animal shelter back when she was a nine week old puppy small enough to tuck into the crook of my elbow. She was a black lab mix (mixed with what, we never quite determined) who came to us with a shaved belly and a crooked spaying scar inelegantly perforated with royal bl ue vicryl suture. As fourth year medical students, we fussed over this scar, criticized the surgical knots with a superiority born of inexperience, and treated Cooper like a dress rehearsal stand-in for a baby, which in most ways she was.Cooper lived with us in six different homes, through medical school and residency and fe...
Source: the underwear drawer - Category: Anesthesiology Authors: Source Type: blogs