On My Dog Cosmo

and interviewing his adopted dad (my boyfriend) about him

I guess since I've announced it everywhere I should announce it here too. Hello Substack, just over two weeks ago my dog Cosmo died. And Cosmo was not just any dog. He was truly the love of my life. I got him 11 years and 4 months ago, when I was just barely recovering from Lyme Disease and its complications for the first time properly. This was back when I lived in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He came to me in a box at baggage claim at Albuquerque Sunport (yes, they really call the airport there that). We had to go there several times to get him, as there were weather problems. He was sent by a breeder in Georgia and back then I didn't know how terrible breeders could be. (I later found out she’d been arrested a few times and had all kinds of reprehensible beliefs about immigrants like myself!) He was my first breeder dog—I had worked with, fostered, and rescued several senior greyhounds and salukis through greyhound rescue and saluki rescue. It was never my intention to go to a breeder but I was told this would be an easier route to getting him certified as a service animal, which is a whole story in itself.

Here is the scene in my memoir SICK when I decide on him and going the breeder route.

Also, the “we” who got him at the airport was me and my ex Jonathan who went from loving him to hating him shortly after his long-time cat decided to run away once we brought the crazy puppy home. (Cosmo in spite of having a trainer and going to puppy school, was not an easy puppy and cats have never not hated him). Jonathan was one of six boyfriends Cosmo came to know. Cosmo was most in love with my current boyfriend of two years and so it makes sense to me that he died in his arms, on his routine final walk of the night, which happened to be a perfect lovely early Saturday (1:30 am) in the heart of Harlem, when all the neighborhood guys and girls were out and so Cosmo died very much not alone. .  in a big crowd of distraught strangers who quickly got us in a cab and on our way to an UES vet. That was the longest ride of my life, Cosmo limp in our arms, me in absolute denial he was gone. They tried to revive him with CPR and it didn't work. Luckily the main vet was a Muslim millennial woman and she walked me through it all including cremation, which we Muslims don't do.

A week ago Cosmo's ashes came and now they sit on top of our bookshelf. It’s maybe the most surreal part of all this. How is this him?

I have made several IG posts and every few tweets I tweet "miss the guy" and I even got a tattoo of his name on my left arm during a short trip to rural PA last week. My boyfriend made a post too and so I thought since Cosmo spent his final years adoring him—truly his hero and dad and best friend—why don't I do an interview with the boyfriend about Cosmo?

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How would you describe Cosmo to someone who did not know him?

An unreasonably handsome poodle, and he knew it. He gave off himbo vibes but was much smarter than he ever let on. He was a neighborhood celebrity in Harlem, and I never met anyone who disliked him (other dogs, that's a different story, but he generally got along very well with big and small dogs alike.) He was the toast of every dog park, popular with owners and fellow canines alike. A very, very good boy—the best.

What were your favorite parts of Cosmo?

Cosmo was terribly affectionate, and possessed a very high EQ—he had an intuition about who liked him, and who didn't, and always went to comfort the person who needed it most. He was very tidy, had remarkable bladder control, and was very firm about his personal boundaries and what he liked and didn't like. (Cosmo loved duck feet and beef liver, but was utterly repulsed by lamb kidney even though he loved lamb—what kind of dog has that many preferences?) He was very quiet, and rarely barked (except for skateboards, scooters, and the doorbell)—one of his last dogsitters remarked that Cosmo was so chill that he'd almost forgotten he was there.

Also, he hated cops.

What was Cosmo's worst side? We called him Cupidor, but also when he was bad Coglidor. Dark Cosmo was a real thing and I think that was part of what made me love him so much: he wasn't the perfect Mr Good Boy. He had way too much personality for that.

His bark, rare as it was, was absolutely horrendous when it came out—he sounded like a much larger, scarier, angrier dog (although this was helpful from a home security perspective.) in his old age, he very much became the grumpy old man who would shout at kids to get off his lawn. He could be very transactional with his affection. I've never known another dog to withhold petting when he wanted your food and you wouldn't give it to him. Truly whorish behavior! But we miss him every day.

How are we gonna survive his loss? Describe our last weeks.

In retrospect, he'd slowed down somewhat in his final weeks—what seemed to be a slight loss of appetite and a general laziness around going for walks—but we figured it was just him being old and picky about his food (as he often was), rather than anything of special concern. We'd just spent a chaotic December and part of January moving between hotels and sublets while we figured out new housing, but he'd managed it all quite well. I think he was delighted to be back home in Harlem, where he'd spent his formative years—during walks, he'd tug to stop at old haunts (his favorite animal hospital, a long-gone pet store that was now a bodega.) Our apartment was a mess (and still is) as we unpacked—he hated clutter—but all things considered, he seemed to be in good health and spirits.

It is comforting to know that he went out quickly and painlessly, surrounded by care and affection—as Porochista has said, his death (in our building lobby in Harlem, with neighborhood guys hunched over him before we frantically carried Cosmo into a Lyft to the animal ER) was like something out of a Spike Lee film. Although I'm a photographer, I was obviously too preoccupied during his final moments to make a picture, but I know the Pietà-like tableau of his passing, with all of us gathered around him, must have looked like an Italian Renaissance painting.

Be kind to your pets, lavish them with special attention and care, give them lots of treats and affection. You never know when they're gonna go.

Who's gonna walk us?

We will actually have to do something of our own initiative and not out of actual responsibility to another living creature, which seems like a really tough sell.

Will we ever have another Cosmo?

Doubtful—I've never met a dog with that much personality, it was truly distinctive. There will probably have to be another poodle, and we'll have to give him a complex about never living up to his late predecessor. (Kidding!)