Rest Well, My Little Friend...

Cosmo "Joe" Shell - August 1997 - November 2009

"...Remember, dogs are not afraid, they are not carrying anxiety and fear of the unknown. So for them it's only about whether this day holds enough companionship and ease and routine so that they would choose to have those things more than anything else and that they are able to focus on those things beyond any discomfort or pain or frustration they may feel. How great is his burden of illness this day, and does he want/need to live through this day with this burden of illness as much as I want/need him to? If I honestly believe that his condition is such, his pleasures sufficient, that he would choose to persevere, then that's the answer and we press on. If, on the other hand, I can look honestly and bravely at the situation and admit that he, with none of the fear or sadness that cripples me, would choose instead to rest, then my obligation is clear.

Because he needs to know in his giant heart, beyond any doubt, that I will have the courage to make the hard decisions on his behalf, that I will always put his peace before my own, and that I am able to love him as unselfishly as he has loved me. After many years, and so very many loved ones now living on joyously in their forever home in my heart, this is the view I take."

Cosmo came into my life on the Sunday before Labor Day weekend 2003. There had been an ad in the Mining Journal: "Free to a good home...6-year-old Schipperke..." The college student who had been hiding him illegally in her apartment because her parents no longer wanted to keep him, was forced to find him a new home.

He was always a bit on the neurotic side (kind of like his Dad), but, over the years, he shed much of his inhibitions and thoroughly enjoyed his life. More than any of my dogs, Cosmo smiled. This earned him one of his many nicknames - Smiley Joe Wiggle-Butt. Schipperkes have only stump tails so he would wag his back side vigorously to make up for it.

Cosmo loved living in the woods. Out here he could run and run and run and still want to run some more. In recent years, he would finally come home limping and I would bring him in for a time out, but he'd be ready to go out again after only a few minutes. For all his timidness, he loved to run with the big dog from next door, Cedar, and took apparent pleasure in hollering at him as they ran up and down Maple Rd.

Now he is free of pain and he can run in the woods as long as he chooses to. His spirit is here with me in my heart. He was and will always be the classic good dog. Rest well, little buddy.