Louise O'Neill: He's a handful... but Cooper is the most beautiful animal in the world
Louise O'Neill, author. Photograph Moya Nolan
Like many people across Ireland, I decided that a dog was exactly what I needed to get me through the interminable dreariness of lockdown. I wanted a dog that didn’t shed and was quiet so of course, I decided to adopt a collie-corgi mix. (The former is famous for its fluffy coat, the latter, a breed which is known to bark excessively. The perfect combination!)
On October 19, 2020, I drove to the CSPCA to pick Cooper up — or Hooper, as he was then called. My father still maintains that he knows we changed his name and resents us for it — and that first night, I couldn’t sleep for fear that Cooper would be whining or upset or scratching the door to get out. He’d recently been neutered and was still wearing his cone, and he looked absolutely miserable in it. I was miserable too. It had been years since we’d had a new puppy and I had forgotten how much work it could be. There was dog hair everywhere, he wouldn’t stop barking, he was constantly testing his boundaries. We nicknamed him Houdini because he seemed to be ever-watchful, waiting to see if and when he could make his great escape. His jumping skills were impressive; I would find him basking on the kitchen table, paws in the air, like he was sunbathing. The morning I discovered violent diarrhoea all over my new rug was the last straw. I wept as I attempted to scrub it clean “why couldn’t you have done this on the kitchen floor?” I wailed as Cooper looked at me sheepishly — and I couldn’t help but wonder why I had voluntarily signed up for this torture. I yearned for my old life, when I didn’t have to think about anyone but myself, not to mention my lovely, tidy house. What had I done?
