Goodbye to my furry BFF, Coco

 

I lost my BFF, Coco, to aggressive cancer on Monday (day after Mother’s Day).  Last week she had no visible, palpable chest mass but she woke up Sunday with a huge one. I thought she had a fever episode on Saturday. Sadly, it had to be the effects of the cancer raring its ugly face. I imagine those tumors had been growing for a while. Typical for animals, Coco hid her pain until she couldn’t.

Coco on May 10, 2025

The animal hospital we use is a nice place, with friendly staff and great vets. Coco was always happy to visit and never snapped at the staff – even on her worst days. We go monthly for laser therapy – Coco would “bounce” to the clinic and greet the techs. They all referred to her as “the happiest Shar-Pei ever”. In her younger years, Coco would enter and put her paws up on the counter to say hello. She expected attention from any who had the time. She had the sweetest temperament. I could count on one hand the few times she growled in warning – and that was when shady characters came to the door and once guarded me from a vicious dog trying to attack.

When we met the breeder to pick her up, Coco came up to me and gave me a kiss. The lady said Coco had never done that before. After that one time, she didn’t do it again, but she showed affection in her own way, on her terms. She was all wrinkles as a puppy and would "melt" into the couch when she laid down. 

 

Chinese Shar-Pei are known for attitude, being snobbish, and loyalty to their families. Coco was expressive. Her eyes said a lot and her body language made her feelings clear. If she was upset or mad, she’d turn her back and ignore us (my previous CSP did the same thing). She’d gently paw to the person sitting next to her when she wanted her back rubbed. She’d stand next to the food cabinet and give me a hard stare when it was close to dinner (and snort if I was late in filling that bowl).

 Coco knew her commands but chose when to obey (usually that involved food). She mostly rang the cow-bells hanging from the back door when she wanted out, although she’d sometimes lay down next to the door. She tolerated our cat, but woe to any other feline that crossed her path. Summer, and warm weather, meant her doggy pool was set-up. She sure loved swimming (but hated the rain). She’d initiate a game of fetch and play until she felt it was enough. Walks and car rides made her smile and no matter how many hours she spent the doggie day care, she never stopped playing until she was picked up.

 

The hardest part of losing a pet is the quiet and loss of routines. She’s not there to greet me at the door. No clicks of nails on the floor as she follows me around the house. Cleaning out the dog food, toys, and bedding was horrible. I kept a few things for the eventual future dog’s use. Those were cleaned and bagged up. The rest will either be donated or thrown out. All I can see now is the crate, which needs to be broken down and stored.

 Dexter, our cat, has wandered around, looking for her. The two weren’t super close, so he doesn’t appear to be grieving. In the past, I’ve had a cat that was devastated after the dog died. Dexter is tough. He curled up next to me the night Coco moved on; he knew I needed the comfort.  Thank you, Dex. 

My heart is hurting and I miss Coco.