The differences between Tilla and Coco, my two “pups”.  I call my dogs that for we raised them from pups.  They are both black:  only Coco is long haired and female.  Tilla is more athletic, barreled chested and lean.  He was the only dog who could jump the fence and necessitated building it higher.  He is a paradox:  aggressive but at the same time timid.  He still won’t let my son pet him.  He simply goes in the opposite direction from him.  Drop treats in front of the four dogs and he might get most of them.  He is quick.  Coco though can be quite insistent when she want to go out into the yard.  She also likes what I call “crunchies”:  when she hears us crunching on something she immediately plops herself in front of us and wants her share.  When I approach Tilla and act as if I am going to give him a belly rub he rolls on his back immediately.  Coco will demurely and slowly raise one leg and turn on her back to indicate she wants one too when I approach her.  Coco likes her privacy.  She will often go into a room or stay in the yard by herself.  Tilla is more my dog although I often find both of them in my bedroom when I retire, Tilla on my bed next to me and Coco on the side.  I love both dearly.

The morning greeting from my “pups” was exuberant.  Their names are “Coco” and “Tilla”.  We have had them since they were born and, of course, they are full grown now.

Today they jumped all over me when they saw me for the first time this morning at my front entrance.  “Tilla” demanded he be petted even jumping over “Coco” in the process.  “Coco” wiggled in every direction and “mouthed” me although she did not bite.  She does this only when she gets excited.

I know these dogs are only on “loan” to me.  I don’t own them.  They are both God’s creatures.  And the day will come when they will not be on the earth any more–not that they are old or sick.  They are not.

They are only the first and second dog I have had from birth.  And they do not belong to me.  Today I will enjoy them.  They are a gift.  I will treat them as such.  For that matter, my time here is only temporary, too.  You usually outlive your pets.  But not always.

Coco is one of my “pups”.  I call her that although she is full grown.  Her Mom is our golden retriever and Dad is our Rottweiler mix.  She is totally black with a little patch of white on her breast, long haired with the most adorable fluffy ears.  She was the pup who hung back and observed before doing anything.  She is so different than her Mom, “Sweetie”.  Sweetie will demand your attention.  She will put her paw on you to get petted more.  Not Coco.  Coco is this unassuming lovable dog.  Sometimes she sits there both paws crossed so feminine-like.  She likes her privacy:  often she is the last dog to come inside from the yard.  When she has a bone, she is loath to leave it and will, often, run out into the yard with it in her mouth and return into the house with it in its mouth, too.  I love all my four dogs but she has a special place in my heart.

I woke up in the middle of the night and Tilla one of my pups was asleep right next to me again.  I never thought another dog would come along who I would love as deeply as Daisy, now gone over three years.

Daisy was the first dog I raised from a pup.  She was one stubborn dog.  I finally decided to train her when I broke the front door window for the third time.  She would go berserk whenever I was about to leave the house.  She scared me and I slammed the door again breaking the glass.

It took infinite patience to train her to stop barking uncontrollably every time I was about to leave the house.  I would clamp my hands over her snout when she barked.  If she stopped, I praised her.  Otherwise I said nothing.

I repeated this technique umpteen times.  I knew I had succeeded when all I had to do when she barked was “shush” her and she would stop immediately.

It also took a long time to train her to sleep in the corner of the bed.  She would want to sleep too closely to me.  I must have pushed her away from me dozens of times in bed before she started sleeping at my feet.

My wife was always amazed that now she would automatically sleep at my feet at the furthest reaches of the bed.

When I was in the house her eyes never left me.  She was my dog.  She finally died and I missed her terribly.  And I thought that there would never be a another dog like her.

Well, Tilla came along.  We were down to one dog and someone gave us a young female golden retriever.  And you know the rest of the story:  she got pregnant before we could fix her.  And Tilla was one of her puppies.

Tilla as opposed to Daisy wanted to please.  We had our own set of problems with him.  Tilla was the only dog athletic enough to  jump the fence we had erected and finally at great expense we had it built higher.  He also had a bad habit of pooping in the dining room every night.

He is the only dog of ours who prompted a visit from the local dog warden when a neighbor complained about one of his escapades.

He was a scoundrel and was the most aggressive of our four dogs yet paradoxically was timid when it came to other humans except us.  He will be three next July.

Tilla did certain things to endear him to me.  He loved getting belly rubs and would turn over on a dime for that privilege.  Whenever he was waiting for me to let him out he would twirl rapidly in almost perfect circles.  He was the only dog to do that of our four.

I started giving him special walks because for a while he was the only dog we could not let loose in the yard.  He can’t replace Daisy but he has come close.  And he came when I least expected it.  He has captured my heart.