Poor Cooper

Poor Cooper. First he was replaced by this tiny screaming pooping thing named Animalia. Then, when he reconciled himself with that, we wouldn't even let him lick her. He didn't want to bite her, he just wanted to lick her and nudge her some. Sometimes he even wanted to protect her from other dogs and random noises. Sure, he knocked her over a couple of times. She wasn't steady on her feet then and he can't help weighing 100lbs and all he did was brush up against her. He was sorry those times, he even whined appropriately. But he thought they'd finally gotten to the point where they could be friends. The Animalia would pet him and sometimes pull on his ears and he'd sit patiently and desperately fight the urge to lick her tiny face. Sometimes he'd lay next to her and roll over and she'd pat his belly. She'd even share her Cheerios with him, giggling as he licked them out of her hand. He was happy those times, even if we told them both No. He'd even learned, somewhat grudgingly, that we weren't always referring to him if we said the word papa.

But now. She starts saying "NO!" when he's within two feet of her and will complain loudly when he's too close to her or her stuff. The answer to the question "¿Que dice Cooper?" The Animalia says "¡NO!"

Poor Cooper.