Picture_of_Coko.avif

60347d7c7f8af816.avif

coko2.avif

Coko

My son and I went to the shelter and Coko picked us before we picked her. She was 10 weeks old. My son had wanted a male pup at first, but we both fell head over heels for her cuteness, cuddles, and kisses. We named her Coko after one of my favorite singers, and she came home with us that day.

The day she picked us

Coko had a skin flare-up on her tail once and the vet sent us home with a cone to let it heal. She wasn't having it. She gave me that sad look, the one that said, "Mom, please take this cone off me. I promise I'll be good and won't mess with my tail." She had a way of negotiating with her eyes.

The cone protest

Coko was the official announcer of every arrival and departure. She'd bark nonstop when my son parked in the yard, and do the same for him when I got home from work or errands. When my son lost his house keys (which happened more than a few times), she'd let me know to unlock the door for my brother. She kept us all connected.

The messenger of the house

My son, Coko, and I used to get down to '90s and early 2000s rap and hip-hop. We didn't play no games. We had dance competitions in the living room, and I won every time.