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The Angel Who Sent Us Cobb

Before Cobb came along, our pack was Misty, Daisy and Lily.

Before we had Daisy and Lily, Misty had been our only dog for eight years.

As a single mom, Misty helped me raise my children and taught them responsibility and the unconditional love of a dog. She taught them to pick up their toys or there would be consequences that only she could dole out (she chewed them all up). She also taught them that she must go out at regular intervals, or again, they would pay the price. She saw them through elementary school and college and was especially close to my daughter, who was the last to leave home.

Misty was the best and most special Christmas present for my kids in 2001, but she was most definitely my least until I married Paul.

When Paul and I began dating, Misty was already three years old. Paul admitted on our very first date that he had no idea what a schnauzer even was. He was a big dog person, having had a previous lab, which was his “heart dog”. I wondered how this was going to go.

I know that there are cat people and dog people and within the dog group, there are sometimes those that preferred big dogs over small dogs. While I love all dogs, as a single mom in a small apartment, I was definitely a small dog person and Paul was very much a big dog person.

By the time Paul and I got engaged, he had gotten to know Misty quite well. He played with her when he came over and developed a genuine affection for her and knew her habits within my household. He also knew that she slept with me every night- something he was planning to change.

“There’s not going to be any dogs sleeping in the bed.”

“That’s what you think,” I thought to myself, as I smiled at him.

I recall talking to my coworkers about Paul’s statement the next day at work. One of them asked me what I would do if he really insisted on Misty not doing what she had done nightly for the past three years.

“He’ll just have to get used to it,” I said.

“You may have to get rid of the dog,” she said, to my horror.

“I’ll get rid of him before I “get rid of” my dog,” I exclaimed.

Obviously not a dog person, she was appalled that I would choose Misty over my husband-to-be.

When Paul and I eventually did get married, Misty never once missed sleeping where she always had, right at the foot of our bed. In fact, as she aged and could no longer jump or remember to use her doggie stairs, it was most often Paul himself who picked her up and gently tucked her in for the night. She had quickly become “his girl”.

In the end, it was ultimately Misty who had the final say about sleeping in our bed. The foot of our bed was her spot for just over 15 years.

It was canine dementia that eventually took her from us, and I will never forget the day she locked eyes with me and seemed to say, “I’m tired now. I am ready to go.”

The night before she passed, my grown daughter, now with a home of her own, came over and spent the night with Misty one last time. The next day, we spoiled her rotten and gave her as much love and affection as we could fit in until it was time for her to cross the bridge.

Her passing was at home, where she was comfortable and surrounded by me, Paul, my daughter and Daisy and Lily. She slipped away quietly and peacefully in my arms. Afterwards, we laid her down gently on the floor so that Daisy and Lily could say goodbye in their own way too. It took our breath away to see them approach her and kiss her sweet face goodbye - the girl that taught them how to be schnauzers.

To this day, I swear that I sometimes see her out of the corner of my eye and she frequently visits me in my dreams. In that hazy state between wakefulness and sleep, I even feel her, curled up at my feet.

Over the last several years, we’ve seen many similarities between Misty and Cobb. They have the exact same bark, the same crazy dinner time clock and the same love of being outside in the sun, just for starters. We often say that it must have been Misty who put Cobb in our lives and that it was, quite literally, a match made in Heaven.

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