Pawprints of love

A tribute to 12.5 years of unforgettable joy

If you are a subscriber to Peak Pursuit, you are receiving this outside the usual schedule because a significant event in our lives has occurred—one that feels important to share while the emotions are still fresh.

In 2012, a tiny 40-day-old cocker spaniel stepped into our lives, bringing with him a coat as unique as his personality—orange roan, a rare and striking blend of white and orange that looked like it had been brushed with the hues of sunrise. From the very beginning, we knew he wasn’t just another puppy; he was extraordinary, in every way.

For the next twelve and a half years, that rare orange-roan coat became a symbol of the joy, love, and light he brought into our home and lives. Wherever he went, people stopped to admire him, drawn to his beautiful coloring and soulful eyes. But his uniqueness wasn’t just in his appearance. It was in the way he lived, the way he loved, and the way he connected with everyone around him.

He was more than a pet; he was family. His wagging tail was the rhythm of our lives, greeting us with unstoppable excitement every time we walked through the door. His playful antics during his puppy days, when his oversized paws and endless curiosity kept us laughing, gave way to a more mature, wise presence in his later years—always calm, always comforting, always there.

He turned everyday moments into celebrations. A walk around the block became an adventure as he pranced along, smelling the grass here, a flower there, his orange-roan coat gleaming in the sunlight. Rainy days and winter days were an excuse to cuddle, his warm body curled beside us as if he understood that his presence was all we needed. His excitement over simple things—the jingle of his leash, a favorite treat, a patch of sunlight—reminded us to find joy in the small, beautiful moments of life. He truly did not need much to be happy.

Over the years, he became our teacher. He showed us what it meant to love unconditionally, to be loyal without question, and to embrace life with an open heart. He celebrated our milestones, shared in our joys, and comforted us through our struggles. His rare beauty wasn’t just in his coat but in his soul—a soul that enriched our lives in ways we’re only just beginning to understand - or perhaps we, as humans, may never understand.

The pain of losing him is deep and raw, leaving a void that feels impossible to fill. The house feels quieter now, the day a lot dimmer without the soft shuffle of his paws or the sparkle of his orange-roan coat in the sunlight. And yet, in our grief, we choose to focus on the incredible gift he gave us.

He may no longer be here physically, but his presence is everywhere—in the memories of his wagging tail, the way he would nudge our hands for one more pat, and the warmth he brought to our hearts. He has left paw prints not just on the floors he walked but on our very souls.

Goodbye, dear friend. Your orange-roan coat was as rare as your spirit, and both will forever be etched in our hearts. Thank you for the years of love, joy, and unwavering companionship. You were, and always will be, one of a kind.

Until we meet again. Rest well, Cookie.

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Footnote: I am not much of a religious person but am spiritual enough to have noticed the two last significant things Cookie did. The first one was to drink water (symbolic of Gangajal (in Hinduism) that is consumed towards the end of one’s life journey) and the other one was to gravitate towards the puja room (prayer room) as if to surrender himself to the almighty and place his trust in divinity for whatever holds for the future. A selfish part of me also assumes that he sent a little prayer to the guardian angels to take care of us and guide us in his absence.