So there’s this thing about my family’s dog, Cooper. We are all in love with him. Completely and totally smitten. So much so that we have kind of invented a little language for when we talk to him. The thing is, he’s more of the highbrow type (and 49 in people years), but he puts up with the babytalk because we’re his family. Here’s a little guide, just in case someone decides to go to my house and wants to know what the heck my family’s going on about.
I have always thought that Cooper and I share a special bond because I went and picked him up from the breeder in Oregon when he was a baby. And now every time I come home he snurfles me almost to death. By which I mean that he bounds up to me and nuzzles his nose against me knees while I pet him until he gets so excited he can’t handle it and starts jumping and running around in circles. It’s all very flattering. No one else gets quite that excited to see me.
What we call it when we’re all inside together eating dinner or watching a movie and Cooper is outside and since he is almost as obsessed with us as we are with him, he finds the closest window and sits perfectly still watching us, as if we were his television.
Sometimes its really hard to stand up and eat at the same time. Cooper solves this age old conundrum by laying on his big dog pillow with his face in his food bowl and relaxin while he’s snackin.
Is what my dad calls Cooper. But he secretly likes Coop almost as much as the rest of us.