A DOG STORY--PART 3

This is not a picture of Coco but picture this

dog with a coat gone wild and you will get a

pretty accurate picture of Coco and his finest.

Coco was a chocolate brown poodle that my sister, Pat, gave to Dad. She gave a dog to Larry’s dad too. Neither dog had their distemper shots and Bob’s dog got sick and died. He mourned like he had lost a child.

Coco was an annoyance. He barked at night. We would go out and whack him with a rolled up newspaper, which didn’t hurt anything but his dignity. But, even with the whackings he just couldn’t help himself. He was a barker. In a town as small as Annabella, a barking dog annoyed half of it. If someone on the other end of town had a barker, the whole town suffered.

Coco's coat got long and longer and for some reason—I’m thinking thrift—we didn’t get him shaved. He looked like he was wearing a ratty blanket.

But, even with his annoying barking and his ratty appearance, he knew something we didn’t. He knew Bob needed a friend. He chose the house across the street with the gentle man who loved dogs over our house and the rolled-up newspaper. Who can blame him?

Soon Coco was riding in the back of Bob's battered blue truck. We didn't care, we were glad that someone loved him. But Bob worried. He didn’t want to steal our dog. He came over to apologize. Mom was happy that Coco had found someone who loved him so much. Dad was too. I was glad I would be off the rolled up newspaper detail. Mom and Dad told Bob to keep him.

Coco was always with Bob. Whenever he was riding in the back of Bob’s pick-up his tongue was lolling out of his mouth, strings of dog-spit flying in the wind. He was in dog heaven. And Bob was in heaven too. And so were we. For now the barking wasn't our problem. In fact, Coco may have given up the barking all together.