COCO

Sometimes when I start telling too many stories about life at my house, life
growing up, or the many adventures I have had as a world traveller in my
younger years, and especially when I start to wax poetic about our many
housepets (past and present) people think I am either quite a good story
teller, or they insist I should write a book about all of this stuff. I can
assure you, I couldn't possibly make some of this up--it's just to weird. As
for writing a book, I've thought about that too. I am not sure what sort of
market there is for a book containing disjointed essays about my adventurous
life, and I am also not so sure I want the entire world reading about it. ;)

When I went away to college back in 1987, I think my parents only feigned
sadness, and soon replaced me--with a Carien Terrier mix puppy. The first
time I came home on break, I was greeted at the door at 2 am by something
that resembled a Tribble (<---reference to a Star Trek Episode), which
immediately began to chew on my foot and bark (at the same time). I also
found out that the dog was given permission to live in my bedroom and sleep
on my bed, and had apparently not been too happy that I was sleeping in
*her* bed. Yes, my parents gave my room away to a dog.

Being, at the time, a reporter and columnist for the highly respected
newspaper, The North Wind, up at Northern Michigan University, I immediatly
vented my anguish in a "For What It's Worth" column, which then gave me my
first pile of fan mail (before that I seemed to specialize in flames, so
this was a turning point in my writing career). Trust me, there were several
blogs' worth of material in my adventures with Coco back in those days. Even
one of my professors was horrified to hear from my own lips that, no, I did
not make it up, and yes, the dog really was given my bed and my room, and
indeed, it does look like a Tribble. My column was too long for me to
include a photo.

It's funny to me that most of my friends and acquaintences from college
still, to this day, mention Coco the Tribble-dog, and are usually surprised
to hear she is still alive, and to hear further adventures about her. She
now lives with my mom and her new husband, and shares a crate with her
step-dog-brother, Hans (who is, amazingly, older than Coco). Coco still
seemed young, though she had grown slightly blind (my mom will bang her dog
dish so she knows where the food is), and often gets down steps by rolling,
and then shakes it off, wags her tail and runs along like a little puppy,
even at her age.

In fact, my kids had a hard time with saying "Grandma" when they were
little, so they always called my mom Coco. Eventually they called her Coco
Grandma.

Well, friends, Coco left this world the other day. I was not really
surprised, as she seemed to be getting sicker, and I knew my mom was goign
to have to make "the decision" sooner or later, but just didn't want to. It
was somewhat sad to hear the news, especially since she resulted in my first
"popular" piece of writing.

By the way, I have all of my old writings from my North Wind days--EXCEPT
that piece! Yes, folks, I even have the in-depth reports that I did with
Stephanie Williams when I found out about them thinking about dumping
nuclear waste in the U.P. way back when...but I don't have that one. I know,
because I looked for it shortly after my mom called to tell me they buried
Coco.

This may sound sort of inappropriately funny, but after digging the hole,
and before putting her in, Hans (the older-than-even-coco dog) FELL INTO the
grave, and they had to rescue him out. As I said before, I could not make
this stuff up if I tried. I haven't even started to tell you about all of
the dogs and cats I've had since I moved out--another time maybe?

So, if there are any of you sweet NMU Alums out there who remember that
column (it would have occured sometime between 1987-1990, though I believe
it was in the earlier years), please send it to me. I'd super appreciate it!