When Cocoa was young, I would call her “Satchel’s baby.” That was her father’s name. I think I got that line from some movie staring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. Wasn’t she called “Bogie’s Baby”? Maybe it wasn’t a movie at all. It could have been just an idea I got in my head.
Recently, we found out that Satchel had passed away, and immediately I remembered the day I got Cocoa. He had followed us out to the car, and I recall thinking what a cool dog he was. The breeder had told me that Cocoa had pretty much stuck with him. “She’s a daddy’s girl” was what I was told. I think she has his eyes but there is no way for me to know for sure.
They are certainly eyes that tell a story. I love it when she drops her head and watches me. There’s something about it that makes me think, “This dog is the real deal. She’s ready to hunt, to go fetch, or read a chapter from Jack London’s White Fang” before turning the lights off at night. Sometimes, I can see my reflection in those eyes and it just makes me go “goo gaa” for her. She knows it of course. You cannot fool a dog. She knows I’m wrapped around her paw.
Other times, like today, she’s my constant companion. I’ve been home sick for the last two days, and she has followed my every step watching me make hot tea and even laying across my legs in an effort to help me get well. . . . I have to say that so far, it’s working!