We walked along cobblestone streets and he held my hand. I wore a pink pashmina around my neck even though it was the dead of summer because it seemed like the fashionable thing to do. And given the choice, I always prefer the fashionable thing to do. The air was thick & heavy, and it clung to my cheeks as a fog started to roll in off the river. I pulled the pashmina in just a little closer, as we ambled down alleyways and sidestepped stumbling blocks. I took his arm…and we talked about life.
Not life as it was, mind you, working for the summer at a law firm in London. A firm that would “refund your plane tickets when you have to cancel your vacation” and where junior associates often slept under their desks. No, not that life. But life as it could be.
Yea, we talked about that life a lot.
We talked about a life where we would both work from home. A home with a fireplace and candles burning and cool citrus basil lotion at the sink. And tea. There would be a lot of tea. Peppermint and Sleepy Time. And cinnamon apple in the fall. There would be cranberry walls, and a big silver “M” that hung over our dining room table with star garland wrapped around the centerpiece. There would be quilts and blankets and wedding pictures in silver frames. And we…well, we would be happy.
And for all the parts of this life that we talked about, dreamed about…the part that came up by far the most was of a little golden fur-ball to make it all complete. And clearly when dreaming about life as it could be, it becomes absolutely imperative to name pets you don’t even own yet right away. Clearly.
So we walked on. And we debated.
I threw out Beau, Bailey, Brady, Brody, Fin, Quinn, Reese, Rider, Riley, Porter, Miner, Sawyer, Sampson and Sam. But he wasn’t having any of it. He looked over at me and quietly said just one name. Cooper.
Oh I don’t know. I mean, Cooper? What kind of a name is Cooper for a dog? Don’t you think Bailey or Brody would be more fitting? But no sooner had he said it, than we looked up and saw that we were walking right past a sign for “Cooperage Traditional Ale.” And just like that, it was settled. Cooper, it would be.
And you know what else? Two months later I had left that firm and we had a little golden furball home with us. Named Dashwood’s Cooperage Ale.
So what’s the moral of the story? How do you know when it’s time to go from life as it is and start chasing life as it could be? Well, it’s easy…
Just look for the signs. :)
The sign that started it all:
And Cooper the day we brought him home: