Chocolate Shadow

Cocoa is currently our only son. And I use the term "our" loosely, since he's mainly my dog. In the spring of 2000, we went to a friend's house for a Memorial Day party, and found a young chocolate lab tied to a tree in the front yard when we arrived. Mr.Y and I both love dogs, so of course we went over to meet this young lad immediately. He was fairly calm for a young male dog, and extremely friendly. Eventually Mr. Friend came out and told us his sad story: two young women had been taking the dog to the animal shelter because they had unwisely taken him into their home when they already had two adult rottweilers, who mercilessly beat up this poor chocolate guy pretty much every day--ahh, so that was the source of the spots on his head and neck where the hair was missing! Anyway, when our friend heard this tale, and recognized a good dog when he saw one, he said "I'll take him!" Unfortunately, when he got home, Mrs. Friend said, "No, you won't!" Did I mention that this is a couple who lives half the year in Florida and the other half the year in North Carolina, where they run a little lodge with rental cabins for tourists? Not the ideal kind of life to share with a big dog.

So of course when Mr. Friend had the law laid down for him, he thought of his buddies, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Y, who just love dogs. I left the decision up to Mr.Y, because we already had one dog, who was mainly my responsibility and I didn't think I wanted to have to walk two dogs, bathe two dogs, take two dogs for vet visits, referee between two dogs (I was sure Solita, our chow/lab mix, wouldn't be crazy about Mr. ChocolateLab, and I was right). Not to bore you with the details of the day, Mr. Y finally decided, and we took Cocoa--don't blame ME for the inane name--home with us that very night.

Long story short: I did indeed end up walking two dogs, bathing two dogs, etc. etc. etc. And Solita did indeed hate his guts, and it was only through the most diligent supervision that I taught her to get along with him at all. To her dying day (we lost her in 2002, but she had a good, full, long life), she had little use for Cocoa and always made it her business to get between him and me when she could.

But, Solita notwithstanding, Cocoa has been my loyal companion since the evening we brought him home. The original intent was that he would be more Mr.Y's dog than mine, but it was not to be. He barely makes a move without me, and only recently, since Mr.Y retired and is at home more of the time, has Coke consented to take occasional walks with him.

When I was a child, my version of the imaginary friend was a large, white dog whom I called White Shadow. (If you're old enough to remember the old "Mickey Mouse Club" on TV, you might remember the original White Shadow, a white German Shepherd who belonged to one of the girls on the show.) Cocoa became almost instantly my real and grownup version of that long-ago imaginary dog. White Shadow was the loyal friend of my childhood, and his presence nursed me through many a childhood drama. But now, in middle age, I have his spirit right here with me in the shape of Cocoa. No one could ask for a sweeter, more accommodating, more protective, more humorous, and just plain cuddly chocolate shadow.