Cookie

I first met Cookie when I went to visit my mom in New Mexico. She and my step-father lived in the middle of the middle of nowhere and Cookie was free to roam the world. She got to commune with horses and cows and listen to coyotes. I did not like her at first. She gave me a rash. She jumped on me. When I tried to go running she followed me. Then I realized that she was a runner. Border Collies have to run. She would disappear into the vast emptiness of Ribera New Mexico. One time she came back with what looked like a rib cage. I assumed it was of some animal but it was also a great place to bury a body I never thought of myself as a dog person, but I realized soon that I was a Cookie person.

I took Cookie on countless long runs. In the East Bay I could go to parks and trails and let her go off leash and wander around. One time she got stuck in the thistle. She didn’t seem mad or frustrated. Just like she was in a quagmire. Another time she found a dead deer. But she did have a magic ability to find a ball anywhere in the world. One time I took to my friend’s house and she unearthed a ball that they claim was there before they moved in fifteen years ago. Border Collie’s are brilliant.

When she wanted something she looked at you. Her eyes communicated whole conversations. She might even give you her paw. I learned on Instagram that Borders Collies do like to raise a paw, a combination of solicitation and a blessing. Kind of what a mom or counselor might do if you were having a hard moment. But she had ulterior motives. You really do want to take me running. I know you do.

Sometimes she would look into my eyes and stare for a solid minute.

There aren’t that many perfect moments in life. But running in some open space with Cookie was definitely perfect. Dogs give so much love. But it doesn’t come for free. And I’m not talking about poop and food. The price is when they leave this earth. This sadness and heartbreak is like no other.

Love you forever, Cookie.