Today is the eighth day since our Copper died. And I miss him like crazy.
I know this seems silly to still be crying over the loss of a pet dog. Nonetheless I am.
I am trying to find my equilibrium, to understand how he could have been suffering while the cancer was eating him alive, and I did not know. And that is difficult.
Copper has been with me 24 hours a day, every day, since he was a puppy. When he was just three years old, he pushed the back of my leg with his forehead, pulled my pant cuffs with his mouth, and corralled me to the car from the middle of a field – when he sensed I was about to have a medical emergency. He saved my life.
When someone would come to the door at our home, he would bark like crazy. Then hide behind me while I answer the door until he was sure all is safe.
Ball playing wasn’t his thing. Hunting pheasants was. He was the best field dog at the club in Gettysburg. And why not? His sire was Cooper of Duck Dynasty fame. The problem was that I could not always hit what he brought up for me to shoot. So after I would miss 2 or 3 birds in a row, Copper would chase down the missed bird, catch it, and bring it back to me, and deposit it at my feet. I often thought it was Copper’s way of saying, here, see if you can hit it now.
Parlor tricks were easy for him. He would go through a litany of things for a pretzel piece or a graham cracker. Sit, down, come to my side, come to the other side, down-rollover, paw-shake, other paw shake, dead bird (pick up the dead bird and retrieve), missed bird (forget it), and on and on. He watched out for us and alerted me of impending physical matters like impending migraines.
Copper would sleep at the foot of our bed, and act as our alarm clock. And every morning – no matter how hungry he was – he would wait until I gave him his medicine. I would ask him to open his mouth and I would put the four pills on the back of his tongue and he would swallow them. Then he would approach his bowl and eat his breakfast, but not until the pills were down the hatch.
Copper went with us everywhere and sat under the table often at my feet. He did not beg for food, and when someone other than my wife or I offered to pet him, he would ignore them. He was a perfect gentleman in public.
But Copper hated little white dogs. Only little white ones, not all dogs. He also hated ground hogs. He would chase these critters across our property, would tree them, and bark until I arrived with a pellet gun to finish the ground hog.
He was with me 24 hours everyday. And now he’s not.
We had him cremated and bought a beautiful wood box for his ashes which will sit in my home office on the fireplace mantle. We are also having a painting made to sit beside the box on the mantle. He spent a lot of time in my office lying at my feet.
Ashes and a painting are a poor excuse, as my grandmother used to say, for the real thing. Copper was an intrinsic part of our lives. Our home is empty without him. And I am grateful to have shared the last 13 years with him.
Copper, I loved you until the end of your life, and I will love and miss you until the end of mine.
Bill Gindlesperger is a central Pennsylvanian, Dickinson College graduate, Pennsylvania System Of Higher Education (PASSHE) Governor, former Shippensburg University Trustee, awarded numerous patents, as well as Founder and Chairman of eLynxx Solutions. eLynxx provides cloud-software for automated sourcing and managing of mail marketing, swag, packaging, and all things print. He is a board member, campaign advisor, successful entrepreneur, published author and commentator. He can be reached at Bill.Gindlesperger@eLynxx.com
