Cooper's Last Day
An ode to a great dog - and a breed that is being destroyed by greed
Anyone who knows my husband, Sean, and I know how much we love our dogs. I chronicle their lives on my private Facebook and Instagram accounts and sometimes on Twitter. Cooper, our golden retriever, has become especially well-known there because of his love for tennis balls, swimming, and daring jumps into our pool. He seems to have a lot of fans, judging by all of the comments I get on my posts about him.
The last few weeks I haven't posted very many Cooper videos or photos, though. That's because on Memorial Day, he had a small seizure after we had him out swimming and playing. He had three more over the next four weeks and, after bloodwork showed no reason for the seizures there, our vet said we needed an MRI to rule out things like a brain tumor. A brain tumor? Not Cooper. He wasn't even nine years old. But apparently that's the primary reason for sudden-onset seizures of a dog his age.
We wanted, needed to know what was going on so we could make the best decisions for him and got him in for an MRI at Metro Hospital on Thursday. Our worst fears were realized. He had a large brain tumor and it was progressing rapidly. We cycled through the options - surgery, radiation, none of which would be a cure - and in the end decided we didn't want to put Cooper through anything more that would diminish his quality of life. The last few days the tumor was pressing against his skull, so he'd try to relieve it by pressing against the step to our living room; the last three nights he started night panting, a sign he was in pain, and was restless and couldn't get comfortable to sleep. So Friday we made the decision to put him down the next day if the meds he was on didn't improve things significantly. They didn't. He had a rough night. He was night panting. He couldn't get comfortable on our bed, where he always sleeps, because he couldn't lay on his side due to the tumor.
We gave him the best last day and morning we could. He played some low-key fetch with Sean on the hill, one of their favorite things to do. He did a small swim with the tennis ball, but got disoriented and couldn't go back in, another sign he wasn't himself, but he enjoyed it while he was swimming. Sean bought steaks for him and Josie last night and grilled them for them. We gave him treats galore (no more worrying about his weight).
Saturday morning we were still struggling with what to do and I looked at Cooper and said "Just give me a sign" and, for the first time in his nearly nine years of life, he didn't eat his breakfast (any of you who has a golden knows how unusual that is). At that point we knew.
That morning he got one last roll down the hill on his tennis balls; one last small game of fetch with Sean; one last ride to Wawa with Sean and Josie, which Sean did with them nearly every day; one last walk and one last ride with us. We asked him if he wanted one last dip in the pool but, after getting disoriented yesterday while he was swimming, he didn't want to go in. This from a dog that a friend joked wasn’t completely dry from May to October when our pool was open.
It was the toughest decision we've ever made but we know we did the right thing. His quality of life was rapidly diminishing and who was Cooper if he couldn't run around and chase tennis balls and do his hotshot jumps off the hot tub into the pool to collect them? And what if he had another seizure? Each one was worse than the last. I don't know if any of you have ever experienced this, but it was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen in my life. He was looking at us while it was happening like he was saying, "Help me" and there was nothing we could do but hold him.
Our hearts are breaking. Sean and I loved him with all we had and we each had our own special bond with him. Sean and he could communicate without language and were such a team. Sean taught him to dock dive; played fetch with him; threw ball after ball for him in the pool. Cooper was my velcro dog, my baby boy as I called him nearly every day. He followed me everywhere and slept pressed up against my legs every night. He could cheer us up with his antics no matter how bad or stressed out we were feeling, especially Sean. I've seen Cooper literally lift Sean up when he’s feeling down time and again.
It's all happened so quickly it's been a lot to process. We truly thought we'd have more time with him. Up until his first seizure, he was so active and healthy and it just seemed like he could go on like that indefinitely. I just cannot fathom losing him at this relatively young age. When we decided to get another golden in 2013 from the Delaware Valley Golden Retriever Rescue we knew they don't have the long life spans they should have because of overbreeding and puppy mills. In fact I said that to my husband to be sure he understood this. I’d met someone in a local dog park who said he’d had five golden retrievers from five different breeders and all died before age 7 from lymphoma. Their lifespan used to be 16 to 17 years old, but is now between ten and 12 years old. One of the main reasons for that is cancer. It is rampant within the breed; 60 percent are impacted by it, according to one study. It’s why the Morris Animal Foundation initiated the $32 million Golden Retriever Lifetime Study in 2012.
Nevertheless, we decided to take the risk because we both love the breed so much. Cooper was a little over nine weeks old when we brought him home, part of a litter surrendered by a home breeder to the Delaware Valley Golden Retriever Rescue. We knew nothing about his medical history, another risk since a lot of the diseases they get are genetic, but one we took with our eyes wide open. Josie, our great pyrenees/golden retriever mix we got from another wonderful rescue, Finding Shelter, was two years old so the two were a perfect fit for each other. I worried we might not have him for very long, yes, but oh the joy he brought to our lives. I treasured each and every day with him and Josie. When Cooper passed age 7, the age the guy in the dog park lost five different dogs, inwardly I drew a sigh of relief. Maybe we’d be one of the lucky ones. Kobe, our last golden retriever had lived to 14 1/2, even with hip dysplasia, which he’d been diagnosed with as a puppy. Cooper was so vibrant and healthy it just didn’t seem possible he would die young. Which is why this is such a shock. Getting Cooper in 2013 helped me get over the untimely loss of Wyatt, another dog who just didn't get to live as long as he should have, and that seems like just yesterday. How is it possible he's gone now too?
We know we did the right thing but there's still a giant, golden-sized hole in our lives right now. This isn't our first rodeo. We've had to do this several times before and realize time will help ease our grief. Thankfully, we still have Josie, who’s 10 1/2 now. She’s been slowing down the last couple of years, so much so that I’ve been mentally preparing myself for her loss, another reason Cooper’s death has been so gut wrenching. Josie has been unbelievable throughout this, climbing on my lap to comfort me as I sobbed, which has helped, but the waves of pain still keep coming. Cooper just didn't get as long a life as he should have.
We are grateful that he's no longer suffering. We could see that when we said good-bye for the last time. He was at peace.
I'm so sorry about Cooper.... I had no idea golden retrievers' lifespans had shortened so much!