Go Dog, Go!

Copper was his name. He was a huge dog with a big head, bigger tongue, and barrel-sized chest that was seemingly filled to capacity with pure heart o' gold.

Copper.

He didn't start out being the best dog ever. In fact, he started out as one of the sickest.

When he was just a pup, he announced that he was sick. He squatted at the entrance to our kitchen. He tensed up so very briefly. He then shot a hot, steaming stream of doggy diarrhea all over the kitchen tile that cleared the room in a heartbeat! The vet said it was parvo. He was hospitalized and put on an IV drip for days. Somehow he made it through.

What didn't kill him made him stronger.

Cop grew up. He grew and grew. He was over 100 pounds in his prime. He was strong and loved life.

Well, he also loved a few other things. He loved rocks. He loved his boy. He loved rocks. He loved his family. He loved a German shepherd named Summer. And he loved rocks.

Our backyard had a flower garden filled with lava rocks. (I didn't put them there. I don't connect roses and tulips with lava. The previous homeowners did.) Copper loved those lava rocks. He loved to lay beside the rocks and occasionally pick one up. He'd loll them around in his big ol' mouth for a while. He'd hold them gently for a spell.

Then he'd crunch them into smithereens.

We couldn't get him to quit his obsession. We tried. It was no use. Any time anyone went outside, Copper would go, too. He'd trot out and hope to play with his rocks. His boy would throw the rocks for Cop. That dog would pick them up and bring them back half the time. The other half he'd crunch them and then run to get a fresh one. Fetch the rock was a great game.

Too great, it seemed. With too much uncontainable excitement.

One day Cop was inside and his boy was out. That was a problem right away for the big guy. He wanted to be with his boy. That was hard to deal with - but Cop could manage.

Then he saw his boy pick up a rock and throw it. That was it. That was all it took.

Copper flew up the stairs. He darted through the kitchen. The screen door was shut. It was a quality door with screen on top and metal on the bottom. Cop ran full-steam ahead.

There was a bang and probably a doggy headache. And then Cop was outside picking up his rock to give to his boy.

He gave us a door that now had its own doggy-created doggy door.

We probably misnamed him. We should have named him Tank or Hammer or Steamroller or Rockhead or something like that.

But no. His name was Copper. And he was the best.