Joy was everybody’s to share.
From the time this five-week old furball tugged on my shoe laces, till Joy drew her last breath Sunday night, she was unlike any other dog. The red-head was not my dog, she was our dog. She was your dog, Cape May’s dog.
My joy is gone. Cape May’s Joy Cooke is gone. She was everybody’s dog, at least I think we shared her. Countless numbers of people called her “my girl.” Entering my office, some of you would yell, “where’s my girl,” and she would come running.
The all too common (for this breed) grey area revealed in an X-ray Saturday morning. Following a brief period of low energy and appetite, we had Joy checked out by the good people at Cape May Vet. Out-of-whack blood work and the x-ray caused fear and optimism. The Golden Retriever had her own plans.
Joy waited patiently for us to return from our usual Sunday night open mic at the Mad Batter. Once home, Joy let us know she was leaving. For us, it was excruciating. For her, it seemed easy and peaceful. She just faded and left.
The hardest part about this, I texted to a friend, is that now I have to tell everyone. It feels like it is our loss. This somewhat red-headed golden left hair and memories everywhere she went. She lived up to the name my wife Suzanne gave her.
We are sorry for our loss.