Whatever I write isn’t going to do this dog justice.
Words can't match a touch, a look, a sensation of companionship.
There are those who think Heaven can’t get any better than it already is, but since Tuesday morning you can be guaranteed that it is an even sweeter place.
Cosmo the Dog has gone back home. Back to Heaven. Yes, that’s the way we see it. All dogs don’t go to Heaven, all dogs go back to Heaven.
I’m sure he’ll be happy Up There. They have harps.
He liked to listen to Martha play the harp. Most of the time. He and the other dogs would gather in a semi-circle and, as she played, then slowly slide from sitting to prone and into a gentle nap.
But there was that Christmas incident
Martha recalls, “Cosmo was nearly unfailingly patient with his humans, except for one time.”
Her harp teacher had assigned her to learn what she calls her “least favorite
Christmas carol…‘Little Drummer Boy.’”
She was practicing the piece while Cosmo, a harp fan, as are all our pets, was in the room keeping her company.
After an hour of listening to her play the repetitive notes of "Little Drummer Boy" over and over, Cosmo got up, waddled over to her, raised up, balanced on his short hind end, reached over with one front paw and gently pulled her arm away from the strings.
He had had enough. "You and me both, buddy," Martha said.
FYI: A long time ago, Cosmo, seen here napping next to one of Martha's harps, was memorialized by the first harp piece Martha composed, the gentle and sweet "Cosmo's Smile." (See and hear a performance HERE.)
On Monday evening, Cosmo finally became too ill to repair – things began to distress him. He was unhappy. So, on Tuesday morning, we gently, kindly helped send him on. It was time.
Let’s be clear: We’re talking about The World’s Greatest Dog. I’ll explain
that shortly. (And we’ve never really met one that wasn’t, though Cosmo has supporting evidence. That's Mister Mo on the couch with Rosie on the right and Baby Jane Doe taking it easy at the other end of the sofa.)
See that old dog face? Used to be a mostly solid black young dog face. And he smiled. When he smiled his smile looked exactly like that of former presidential candidate Steven Forbes – lips tight to the teeth and slightly askew. I’m not kidding. (The Cosmo’s Smile video ends with his full-on toothy grin – we’ve got a photo of his smile somewhere – our vast critter photo files are, well, not organized.)
There was never any mistake about this: Cosmo was Martha’s dog. My funspouse was Cosmo’s darling and he was hers. MoMo was her baby. All the other dogs and cats knew it – with the exception of Bob the Big Black Cat, Martha’s possessive soulmate. The late Bob owned Martha. Oh, they all own Martha. That’s how she’s wired. (Yes, she enjoys dressing the dogs festively -- that's Mo in his tinsel collar.)
We do need to note that the only time Cosmo ever wavered was when his first vet hired an extraordinarily beautiful young woman with her hair in cornrows and a
smile that would knock your eyes out. When he walked into the clinic, Cosmo went looking for her. He abandoned all but pursuit of this woman. When she spoke to him and bent down to pet his head and hug his neck, he shuddered like a teenager in love. Darnedest thing.
What kind of dog was Cosmo? He was a Dallas street dog – didn’t fit comfortably into a category other than “member of the family.” A stray? In Dallas? The devil you say.
We found him years before the city had a limit on animals. He was our third or fourth dog. Came into a house with four cats – one of which, little gray Spike, jumped on his back and rode him like a cowboy to say hello. Cosmo was alarmed but not angry. They worked things out.
Cosmo had a black coat with a white blaze. – hair like a Lab, maybe. He also had prick ears, a kind of pointed but kind of floppy. His nose wasn’t blunt but sort of short. He had stubby Bassett-like legs, big paws, the tail of a Chow, the girth of a chowhound and the demeanor of an angel. When standing, he was foot-ruler high at the shoulders and a little bit broader.
He only ever had disagreements with our big ol’ Great Dane/Lab mix Hambone Jack -- and they generally worked things out during their more than a decade together. Hammy did have a noticeable notch in one of his ears, proof that Cosmo could reach up and snap when Hammy abandoned his generally sweet nature. Such spats were unnerving – they’d shake me and Martha but a half-hour later those two clowns would go romping out the door together.
Where did Cosmo come from? We don’t know – we found him in the neighborhood but who knows where angels originate.
We picked him up off the side of the road at Ledbetter and I-35 a long time
ago. Martha opened the car door and he jumped right in with her and thus the love affair with “Pretty MoMo” began.
Martha named the spot “Mo Corner” years ago.
On his veterinary file, the earliest date of a visit was 1994. Until he was well into his gray-muzzled years, he lived an extraordinarily healthy life – got his shots, got his food, got his treats.
If memory serves, he only ever had two surgeries – one to remove testicles, the other to remove a growth on his side.
Oh, and he had a bar card. Kind of. He wasn’t board certified, but he had a limited practice.
People who have gotten business letters from me may have seen that they were CC’d to “Nathan Wolfman, PC.” A lot of people think that “PC” refers to an attorney as a “professional counselor.” In this case PC was “Personal Canine.”
When I cited him, I’d read to him what I’d written – in case he had any objections.
He never lost a case. When I would grow weary of being annoyed by magazine solicitors or other pains in the neck, I would write a nice letter suggesting that they take me off their call or mailing lists and I would CC: Nathan Wolfman, PC. Not once did an entity continue to contact us. Not once. So Cosmo, doing business as Nathan Wolfman, PC, was a triumphant dog.
He could work a crowd, too. He had one trick. He would be standing and, if he thought it would help get a pat on his head, he would sit on his haunches, lean back, hold up both his front legs and smile with a twinkle in his eye. My late mom-in-law adored this dog and always asked him to “do your trick!” He’d oblige gracefully.
People may think he was named after Cosmo Kramer, the character on Seinfeld. But he was named a long time before Kramer’s name became known (Season 6 in 1995).
Our pal just seemed like a Cosmo. Suave and entertaining, you know? And his last name was Corleone. Cosmo Corleone. It went together. Sauve and entertaining with an implication of a serious side that would “make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”.
As recently as Monday morning Cosmo was still a gamer. He was healthy enough to contest Inky the Cocker for an animal cracker I accidentally slid across the kitchen floor. They looked like a couple of old and hairy hockey players going after a puck. Cosmo beat Inky to the puck.
Cosmo’s gait had been slowed by arthritis for years and lord knows what else bothered him. He didn’t whimper, didn’t complain – though he would offer three shrill barks if he thought his meal wasn’t arriving quickly enough.
He was so determined to not be burdensome. Even when his walking was measured in feet instead of yards, he’d still try to make sure he got outside at the right time.
And at night, when he got ready to go to bed, he’d “fetch” Martha and lead her down the hall to his room – the one he shared with Martha’s big harp.
A few months ago we thought he was experiencing something awful and we took him to his vet, Dr. Vladi De Jong, who shook his head at the dog’s advanced age. Cosmo was pretty much past the point of being able to survive any serious surgery.
A day or so later, all the tests came back and stunned everybody – by the numbers, he was just about the healthiest old dog in Dallas. He had developed a sporatic incontinence, which annoyed him. But we were mindful of his condition and helped him get in and out.
After that vet visit, however, Dr. De Jong said he thought he detected a little touch of congestive heart failure in this semi-incontinent dog and prescribed – you guessed it – a diuretic. What’s life without a challenge, eh?
On Monday night, after an apparently healthy day, Cosmo became unfixably ill. Whatever was causing his internal problem would have required a surgery that he probably would not live through. Recovery would have been torturous – even if whatever was attacking him could be beaten. So, it was time.
We heard him whimper one time on Tuesday morning – we’d never heard him whimper before.
Since our earliest vet record on Cosmo is dated 1994 and he was probably a year or two old when we picked him up off the street, we were dealing with quite an old dog. Old dog, ancient soul.
He was a graceful, polite person of manners and grace every day of his life.
And that is more than I can say for me or most people.
So, we reach this point of explanation. What makes Cosmo the Greatest Dog Ever?
Back in 1996, Martha bought a car from a Chevy dealership in DeSoto. After a few days she had to take the car back to get its new license plates. She took Cosmo with her. He was a young, sly dog.
While Martha sat on a bench outside the dealership, a car salesman came up to annoy her -- I think that is the job description. He was chatting her up and also trying to sell her some auto protection policy or something.
As men looking for an opening will do, he asked, "Mind if I pet your dog?" and she replied, "Go ahead. I don't know how he'll react. He's never been around strange men."
So the guy bends down and pets Cosmo as if he's merely a common animal. Then the man stands up, ignores Cosmo and keeps talking.
Cosmo looked up at the salesman, sort of smiled, then stood quietly, lifted a short back leg and whizzed all over the saleman's pants leg and boot.
And that is one more reason Cosmo was the Greatest Dog Ever and always will enjoy a special place in our hearts.
Poor Cosmo was way too old for any sort of major surgery years ago, so for the last few years, while enjoying his company, we nursed him along with pills and diet and no stress or struggle beyond what he wanted. We didn’t want lose him – the house doesn’t feel right without him. Heck, the planet doesn’t feel right without him.
We do have a lingering suspicion however, that handsome, lovin'-the-ladies Cosmo had become a little anxious, fearing that he was about to be swept up in this Petraeus scandal with all the other ol’ dawgs.
He’d have been smiling at that. And we're misting up in his absence.
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