Coco

In early 2004, we met a lady in a Kroger parking lot where she gave us a little brown and tan Chihuahua. She told us she was his second owner and that he was only about a year old. He jumped in our van and immediately seemed to feel comfortable with us. When the lady drove off, he watched her until he could no longer see her. Then he turned back to us as if he knew he had been left again.

This little boy was Coco.  The lady left him outside all day, his little ears were fly-bitten, he was not neutered, nor was he house broken. We took him to the vet to have him checked out. The vet said Coco was closer to four years old. We had him brought up to date on his shots, got his teeth cleaned and had him neutered.

We weren’t really looking for a dog, but we had recently encountered several Chihuahuas and Liz wanted a dog that was more her size. We already had a beagle mix, Emma, that was quite a handful. We also had a cat named Toby. This lady advertised on an email loop that she was giving a Chihuahua away. I thought it would be great for Liz. Coco, however, attached himself to me. I tried to ignore him, but he knew I was Mama. Wherever I was, there he would be. His favorite place was under a blanket usually on the couch. We sat on him a few times until it finally became a habit to poke around on the blankets before sitting down.

Coco and Emma became fast friends. They would chase each other around and around the recliner. Emma would chase Coco as he bounced from couch to couch. I swear they were both grinning the whole time! Whenever the two of them would go outside, they would do what we termed, “bullet run”. That is where they tuck their tails and run extremely fast all over the yard. Sometimes, when Coco ran, he bounded just like a deer.

Not only did Coco play with Emma, he and Toby played, too. Toby eventually became much larger than Coco and played too rough for him. Coco, Emma, and Toby would all three curl up together on the couch and sleep. I have pictures somewhere. We lost Emma in a tragic accident in the back yard in August of 2005. Coco was witness to this. For several weeks he looked and looked for Emma, going in and out the back door. He eventually resigned to the fact that she was gone.

Coco was not a typical Chihuahua. He was very loving and affectionate to almost everyone. There were a couple of people he didn’t like, but most people who met him commented on what a sweet boy he was. Sometimes we would take him to the park and people would smile down at him as we passed. Children would ask to pet him which he graciously obliged. 

Even though he was little, he was big on the inside. Liz took horseback riding lessons for a while. We took both Coco and Emma to the barn one day. Emma hid behind my legs because a goat came up. Coco stood next to a Clydesdale horse and barked furiously. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

In October 2009, Coco had a pain in his side so we took him to the vet. They immediately sent us over to the University of Georgia in Athens (UGA). He underwent many, many tests yet they could not figure out what was wrong with him. His blood count was at 9. It should have been at 35 or higher. They told us they couldn’t understand why he didn’t even look or act sick. Over the next couple of months Coco stayed at UGA several different times. He received at least two blood transfusions. I was told that he very seldom stayed in his crate because they had all fallen in love with him and fought over who got to hold him. We finally ended up with a vague diagnosis of an autoimmune disease. No one expected him to live very long. Up until the last month or so, he was still eating great, playing, and trying to hump on our 75-pound dog. 

During the last couple of months, he lost weight, slowed down his eating, no longer played. However, he still attempted showing his dominance over the 75-pound Chloe. Ever the male, Coco. When it got to the point that we carried him up and down the stairs, I knew I was going to have to make a decision. I prayed that he would just go to sleep. When I told that to my vet, he said that with this disease that he would just hang on and wither away but not die. He assured me that euthanasia would be a gift to Coco. So we made the appointment. That was one of the hardest moments of my life watching the life go out of his eyes and his body go limp. My little Coco-boy. My shadow.

Coco has been gone a week now. I still have to stop myself from getting a treat for him to go to his bed at night. I still hesitate at the door for him to follow me in. I still expect to see him on the couch right next to my desk. I still hear the ticking noise of his always too long claws tapping on the floor. When I come home from work, I still look for his sweet little face happy to see me.

I know he is in a better place now. I know that in time, the pain and emptiness will subside. I have visions in my head of Emma meeting Coco and now they are both running and playing and grinning from ear to ear.

You were a good dog, Coco. A very good boy.

Basements, Spiders, and Depression

Have you ever started looking for one thing, but find something else? I was looking for some notebook tabs the other day when I came across what you are about to read. It was something I wrote over 13 years ago. I had attended a women’s retreat with the ladies from my church where depression seemed to be the prevalent issue that weekend. Later, the ladies’ ministry had a year-end dinner and several of us were asked to share. Speaking in front of people is not my thing; however, I said yes.

Then, I panicked because I had no idea what to share. I truly believe what happened to me was given to me by God. After the incident in this story, I told God I knew he was trying to teach me something and to please show me. I lay on the floor under the emergency light and wrote this. When I wrote the last sentence, the power came back on. So, when I “discovered” this again, I thought maybe someone needed to hear it…even if it is just me. Here it is:

When Karen asked me to share what God has been doing in my life, at first I thought, “What on earth would I say?!” Then, the more I prayed and thought about it, I began to wonder how much time could I take? There are so many areas in my life that God is working on, it was hard to decide. But, I kept thinking about the ladies’ retreat and how so many shared their struggle with depression. This is a battle I, too, have fought. I have had people ask me how I deal with depression. I have always given the standard answer of diet and exercise. You know---no caffeine, no chocolate, no sugar, and, of course, exercise. This is a good answer even though I don’t do the exercise thing!

A good answer, but not the complete answer. Diet and exercise are very important—but the most critical factor in fighting the depression has been (and is) my relationship with God! I do find, though, that at my lowest points that I don’t WANT to pick up the Bible and read it. I don’t want to get on my knees and pray. Actually, what I REALLY want is a Hershey bar and the remote control! 

The Lord gave me something, an experience, to share with you tonight:

The other night when one of those heavy thunderstorms rolled through, I heard my husband tell his mom (on the phone) that he was going to get the umbrella and go check on something he had been working on out back. Well, just as he went out, I heard the lightening hit something close. The ones that go flash-crack-boom! Envisioning him standing in the back yard with smoke coming out of his now curled hair, I went running downstairs, into the garage, down into the basement and over to the back door that opens to the back yard. Nothing out there but rain!

So, while I’m standing at the back door, frantically trying to see my husband through the torrential rain, the power went out! (Now, I am not a big fan of the dark---I like night lights, thank you very much!) There I was, pitch black darkness all around; so thick you could feel it!

Okay, I have a 6-year old and a 3-year old that I was just positive the storm has woke them up and they are all the way upstairs crying for mom. And, being a mom, I knew I had to get up there fast! There is just one problem: I can’t see my hand in front of me, much less to go all the way across an extremely crowded basement and then up about 20 steps. BUT, my girls needed me so I had to try!

So, here I am, stumbling around in the dark, trying on my own with no light to climb up out of this basement. I start praying, “Lord, give me some light! Lord, give me some light!” My hand touches a pole---good! Halfway there! Then, I try to go around the pole but there is a stack of boxes on one side and stuff on the other. Well, great! If I keep going like this, I will end up in the corner with SPIDERS! Yuck! “Lord, give me some light!”

Okay, I’ll just go back to where I started but it is so dark I can’t find the back door---“Lord, give me some light!” Just then, I see a flash of distant lightening and I make it to the back door. There, in the still very heavy downpour, stands my husband. Not with an umbrella, but with a powerful flashlight. He shines the light across the basement as I race up to check on my girls---who, of course, were still sound asleep.

After a few moments to calm down, I asked the Lord to show me something in this experience. And he did: Depression can be a lot like being down in that very dark basement. Try as I can, I can not find the stairs to go up. I stumble around, get lost, and sometimes even run into those spiders. But, you know what God showed me? The LORD is my Light and my Salvation!

So now, when I’m in that basement and it’s so dark I can not find my way out---I pray, “Lord, give me some light!” And you know what He does? He gives me His Son!

Back to now. It has been 13 years since I wrote this. Much in my life has changed. I am single and my girls are now 19 & 16. I have incorporated exercise a little more into my life. However, I still struggle occasionally with depression. My lows aren’t as low as they used to be, nor do they last as long. I have discovered that when depression, frustration, and disappointment settle in, it is usually when I take my focus off the Light.