Coco was born in 2006, two years before me. She was the first dog I ever met and the first dog I truly loved. She’s probably a big part of why I love dogs as much as I do today.
She was a brown medium-sized poodle, who over time probably became more gray than brown.
She loved people and animals and was also very fond of barking at things outside the window. She had that classic Danish casual style with a messy ponytail and a tail like a little flag, while the rest of her fur was kept short. Every morning, I would lie down at the foot of the bed to say good morning to her, and one of my very first words was actually "Coco."
She was mainly my mother's dog, but I loved playing with her and teaching her new tricks. When Coco was ten years old, we got Yuna, who became my dog. Coco was happy to have a new friend to play with — but definitely also happy to have her own basket in the corner where she could get some peace and quiet. When Coco was eleven, we sold our house in Denmark and set off to travel the world.
She came with us down through Europe and celebrated her twelfth birthday with a bike ride through a little town in southern France. She lived with us during our first few months at an animal sanctuary in Spain, but when she got mouth cancer for the third time, sadly, we had to say goodbye to her. She passed away on a sunny day in December and was buried at the animal sanctuary among the carob trees, with a view of the sea.
Coco experienced a lot in her twelve years of life — she enjoyed warm winters on the Canary Islands and road-tripped across Europe with us in our white van. She went on hundreds of walks around Damhussøen, where we used to live, and more than anything else, she was deeply loved by so many people.
A few pictures of Coco:
Coco with her messy ponytail
Me and Coco on a trip in our white van
Little me walking around Damhussøen with Coco
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