Our dog Coco became a loyal companion to each of us in turn, sensing the boys’ moods and my own

y family and I went to see a litter of puppies. How excited we were to be shown out to the back shed where the six-weekold pups were competing for food. Mother was lying calmly on her side, feeding, as the strongest of the litter trampled all over the runt to get to the food.

Which one to choose was the biggest issue – each one was cuter than the next. Some had been already claimed. The mother Lucy, we were told, was a cairn terrier mix. The dad a pure-bred German spitz. The puppies were adorable.

Our youngest son was three years old. Our next son eight and our eldest in his 20s. And here we were about to welcome a pup into our home.

It was to be our first family pet since we had moved to Kildare seven years previously. I offered that we should pick the female. No leg lifting antics taking a pee at every corner. No sniffing after bitches in heat. The female would be calmer.

Finally in agreement, we chose the only female in the litter and went home to wait the four weeks until she was ready to say goodbye to her birth family.

In the meantime, after much deliberation, we decided to name her Coco. If I remember correctly she was referred to as Coco Chanel by my good self. We called her Cocahontas when it suited too.

I wanted to give her a feminine tag, seeing as I was the only female in the house along with four males. And a goldfish.

I slept on the sofa that first night with our lady as she scrambled all over the duvet.

Coco became a loyal companion to each of us in turn, sensing the boys’ moods and my own along with them. Gauging when to play and when not to. Knowing who and when to comfort. Knowing when to retreat, when to go to her bed. Obeying the various commands. Stay! Sit! Lie down!

Never did we realise the impact this creature would have on our lives.

So where is this all leading?

Well… our Miss Coco is now 17. She is more than a little hard of hearing. She has moderate progressive vision loss and it is the norm these days for her to walk into walls or to stare at the ceiling. She’s a tad confused.

She can no longer see us, or indeed hear us when we call her, due to her age-associated deafness. Yet at other times she appears fine. Mindful in case we trip over her as she walks in front of us, we are careful. The cats that come in to the back garden ignore her these days because she is no longer a threat to them.

She sleeps a lot and isn’t as continent as a younger dog would be. We clean up after her and pass no remark. Long walks are now a no-go. Strange surroundings are a nightmare for her to navigate and we cannot leave her home alone for longer than a couple of hours. All lights have to be left on in time for nightfall. We leave music for dogs playing on Spotify while we’re out.

But she’s happy pottering around wagging her tail, staring at the wall, always on the lookout for a treat.

She may follow sound in the opposite direction but she’s not in pain and, aside from a few near misses, she’s doing fine. She’s not suffering.

Being fished out of the neighbour’s pond was a real eye opener – reminding us to keep the doors closed. We’re constantly calling, ‘where’s Coco - is she up there with you?’

We cannot go away for an overnight without having someone to stay home with her. We can’t even bring her with us as she gets anxious in the car.

It struck me just the other day that if she were a human being might we possibly be considering a care home for her?

That made me think.

We manage her limitations and manage them very well because we work around it. She is comfortable in familiar surroundings. She deserves to be able to potter around or sleep through the day, because it’s her life. She feels contented and safe in her own home.

But she’s not a human is she? She’s not an older lady. She’s a dog.

As it is, we will continue to look after her, because she is one of the family and we love her. She is not fit for the scrap heap just yet – but the day is coming when we will have to say goodbye to Miss Coco and no one knows when that day will be.

We will be sad and tears will be shed. There will be an almighty void in our lives and we will never forget her. But we will get on with it because we have done right by her.

Dogs really are for the long haul.