Saying Goodbye

There we sat, my mom, my dad, my brother, and I, in a tight circle on our living room carpet, around our family’s beloved dog, Cocoa. I lightly stroked her chocolate fur and imagined living without her. Cocoa had been my dog for the last 4 years. During those 4 years, I had fallen in love with the sport of tennis. Each morning I left for school early, directly after walking Cocoa for a quick ten minutes. Then after school, I played tennis all afternoon. Because of my hectic schedule, Cocoa was by herself all day long. When I got home from tennis, I only had a little bit of time for another brisk walk, before dinner and a couple hours of homework. Cocoa rarely got the attention that she deserved. In addition, every weekend, we packed our suitcases and drove to a different city for a tennis tournament, which meant that we had to leave Cocoa at the Dog Border. Clearly, we didn’t have time for a dog,so one day my parents sat my brother and I down at the dinner table, and proposed the idea of someday, finding a new home for her and giving her away to somebody who could properly care for her. Sadly, today was that day.


An eerie silence filled our two-story home as we sat there around Cocoa. The dull sound of a motor chugged down our street and into our driveway. My heart skipped a beat. My parents looked at each other, with sad smiles. When the doorbell rang, my dad rose to his feet in slow motion, and ambled to the door. It creaked ajar, and sunlight flooded the sullen entryway. I heard my dad greet the new owner hello. Her name was Keith. She possessed long, brown hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail on the crook of her neck. Cocoa whipped her tail and sprinted to her, leaping up onto her skirt as if she were trying to give the lady a hug.


Keith smiled up and said in a slight southern accent, “I’ll need to teach her to not jump on people.” She then looked down at Cocoa, “Down,” she said sternly. Cocoa remained on her skirt, and wagged her tail even harder, as if she were receiving praise. Keith gently pushed her down, and looked at my dad. “It looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do.”


While she spoke to my parents for a few minutes in the kitchen, my brother and I hugged Cocoa’s neck in the living room, as she wagged her furry tail. I marveled at her dazzling eyes. I will never forget their color: a lovely gold, like the sky during a summer sunrise. She pressed her wet nose into my palm, and licked me with her rough, red-pink tongue. I wanted to give her away, because I knew that she would be so much happier with Keith.  Her life would be filled with the attention she deserved, but was not getting from us. However, there was something about saying farewell to Cocoa, which that ripped my heart to shreds. I knew that I was being selfish, but Cocoa was a part of our family.


Keith followed my parents into the living room, and they sat on the old forest-green couch. “Cocoa is a beautiful dog,” she started, “I especially admire her eyes. They remind me of honey. ”


I nodded, unsure of whether I should thank her for complementing my dog.


“I have two cats and a dog. I also have a huge backyard and a swimming pool, where they play every day. A group of friends and I go on a 5 mile walk every afternoon with our dogs. I think that we can help Cocoa get back into shape.” She playfully pinched the blanket of fat over Cocoa’s tummy. “Here,” she handed me a note card. “On top is my email. I’ll send you lots of emails about how Cocoa is adapting to living with me. On bottom is my Skype address. You can call me anytime you would like to see Cocoa.”


“Thank you so much.” I said graciously.


“No, thank you.”


We all stood up, and my dad opened the front door again, carrying a brown cardboard box of squeaky toys and tennis balls to the trunk of Keith’s car. My mom and brother followed them with Cocoa’s food and water bowl, and I came soon after, grasping Cocoa’s leash, with her close by my side. The lady picked Cocoa up, and set her in the passenger’s seat. With a smile and a wave, she hopped into the driver’s seat and drove away, leaving us with tears welling in our eyes.


We turned and meandered back up the driveway toward our house. The closer we got to our house, the harder it was to keep from crying. By the time we reached the door, all four of us were bawling. Yes, even my dad had a couple tears streaming down his face. In fact, that day was the only time I have ever seen him cry. Whether we were crying tears of joy for helping Cocoa find a good home, gratefulness for Keith, or sorrow for losing the precious puppy that I had received for my birthday four years ago, I don’t know. Maybe it was all 3.