My Coco: My Four-Legged Soulmate Sent by God
A Memoir of Unconditional Love, Loss, and God’s Comfort
August 11, 2006 — July 1, 2021
He came into my life wearing a red bow and left it wrapped around my heart. Coco wasn’t just a dog. He was my companion, my child, my shadow through joy and sorrow. He saw me through engagement, marriage, divorce, diagnosis, and healing. There’s not a piece of my adult life that doesn’t have his paw print on it. I believe I’ll see him again. Until then, I’ll save him a seat on the golf cart.
This is the story of Coco—my child in fur, my joy, my comfort, and God’s gift to me for fifteen beautiful years.
Leaving paw prints on my heart and proof of God's love in every moment. Through laughter, heartbreak, and healing, he was my constant companion. And when the time came to say goodbye, God carried us both in grace.
This is the story of the love that never left and the hope that one day, I’ll see him again.
The Day Coco Found Me
“I want a dog that doesn’t shed and does not weigh more than ten pounds.” That was my answer at the pet store when a woman asked me what kind of dog I was looking for.
She smiled and said, “Perfect! We have one that won’t weigh more than eight pounds, and his life expectancy is ten years.”
She guided me into a small seating area and placed two tiny puppies at my feet, a curious black dachshund and a little designer mix, half Shih Tzu, half Yorkie. I remembered that my husband at the time loved dachshunds. But that puppy immediately started humping everything in sight, first my leg, then the sweet Shih Tzu/Yorkie beside him.
Instantly protective, my heart reacted faster than my logic. I scooped up the smaller pup to protect him. And in that exact moment, he became mine; my heart was entirely his. Ten minutes later, on August 11, 2006, I walked out of that store with a fluffy miracle in my arms wrapped in a big red bow and wrapped around my heart forever.
A Name with Love
I rushed to our business to introduce my furry son to his new human father. Naming him was our first parenting task. My husband (at that time) suggested Rusty because of his coat color. I instantly said, “No! Why name him after your business partner and friend?”
Then it hit me! Coco!
Like Courteney Cox’s daughter.
(Yes, Friends is my favorite sitcom, and Monica Geller is my forever spirit animal.)
He agreed immediately.
COCO was officially home.
A Personality Too Big For 8 lbs
Coco eventually grew to 48 pounds. His lightest was 30 pounds. So much for “small,” right? But that little lie gave me fifteen years and one month of the greatest love I have ever known. He became my entire world. I did not have human children; he was my child. He saw me from age 32 to age 47. He witnessed the highest points of my life, getting engaged and married, and the lowest, being diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and later divorced. He wasn’t just there. He was my unconditional companion. He helped me carry on through it all. I barely remember who I was before Coco. But I remember every moment of my life with him. He hated to see me cry. He would lick away the tears as if he could swallow my sadness. When he was sick, he needed me. When I was hurting, I needed him. Those were the two times he refused to leave my side.
It was like our hearts lived by a sacred bond: We suffer together. We heal together. We stay together.
Fifteen Years of Love, Life, and Laughter That Changed Me
Coco was one of a kind, my snooty‑booty child! My baby and my best friend. Because we lived on a golf course… naturally, I bought him a golf cart. Every Saturday, Sunday, and Monday at 5:00 PM sharp, if we weren’t already driving, Coco would bark his command: “It’s car‑ride time!” And off we’d go — just us, wind, and joy. He absolutely loved it. Afterward, we had a treat ritual: a Nutty Bar & a Dr. Pepper. Coco LOVED Dr. Pepper. And everyone knows people who love Dr. Pepper are brilliant; well, this fur‑baby was a genius.
He understood:
“Nutty Bar”
“Dr. Pepper”
"Aunt Joce”
“Grandma”
“Uncle” (my brother Edwin)
And of course…
Max.
His English bulldog cousin.
The moment Max showed up, Coco hid in the closet like Max was a monster. We laughed every time!
He loved morning walks, especially when the cold nipped at our cheeks. We’d stroll for hours, sit by the lake, and people‑watch. When my Rheumatoid pain made it impossible,
Uncle Edwin stepped in, and Coco knew exactly who to thank.
He loved.
He lived.
He made everything better.
Fighting for More Time
When Coco turned ten, a soft dread settled into my prayers. I would ask God to prepare me for the day I’d lose Coco…but how does one prepare to lose their soul’s companion?
On October 22, 2020, his vet performed a CT scan. They found:
A large mass behind his left eye socket
One mass on his spleen
One on his adrenal gland
I cried… but hope shielded me.
I still believed God would heal him.
I felt deep down ....
“It’s not his time.”
On November 19, 2020, surgeons removed the tumor behind his eye. I didn’t see him until November 22. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, could have prepared me for what I saw next. The sight of his swollen face, his eye shut tight, his body aching, and his spirit whimpering in pain broke me. On the drive home, the pain crushed me. I pulled over on the freeway, gasping, sobbing, shaking. It would be the experience of my first anxiety attack. All I wanted was to trade places with him. The days that followed were nothing short of agonizing, but God was there, holding us both through every minute. I truly believe God carried us through every hour that followed. I genuinely believe that. But the road ahead was still steep.
The Beginning of a Goodbye
Coco’s recovery was not easy. He had another surgery in late March 2021 to remove the other masses. He suffered often, though there were rare glimpses of good days. He turned 15 on June 1, 2021, a milestone I treasured. Even though my little warrior had made it, I scheduled his peaceful passing at my home for July 12th…but Coco’s little body couldn’t wait. He passed on July 1, 2021.
Even now, writing these words shatters something inside me. But I must tell this part to other mommas who have walked, or will walk, this same heartbreaking path.
A Love That Still Echoes
The night before, on the night of June 30th, my heart felt unbearably heavy. The sadness weighed heavily over me like a warning I didn’t want to hear. I cried and prayed throughout the night, begging God for just a little more time. I knew Coco’s life was not eternal here on Earth, but I still prayed for the impossible. I did not sleep. I cried the entire night.
At 12:38 AM on July 1st, a text from my ex‑husband pierced through the darkness: “I am taking Coco to the hospital. He is not doing good.”My nightmare. My panic. My terror all began simultaneously. I rushed to meet them and brought Coco to an emergency hospital in Conroe, the town I grew up in but hadn’t returned to in nearly twelve years. The irony felt sharp, grief bringing me home.
At 6:54 AM, on July 1, 2021, my baby boy got his wings.
My sister and my mother were with me. I will never have the words to describe the pain that crushed me. I screamed. I couldn’t breathe. I cried out loud in that clinic, refusing to let go of his body until my mother physically lifted me away as my knees gave out from under me, while the weight of life’s cruelest heartbreak pressed down on my soul. They took me to my mother’s house, where I spent the day drifting in and out of sleep, waking up to my own screams of heartbreak. My entire world shattered in an instant. But even then, God was working. My father, from whom I’d been estranged for eleven years, showed up for me that day in my most difficult times. God used my heartbreak to heal what once felt impossible. Even in loss, He was working miracles. God used this heartbreak to restore us.
The Courage in Goodbye: A Desperate Cry to Heaven
I have always been strong and independent to a fault. I always want to help others, but I hate it when others see me hurting. I didn’t want my family to feel sadness because of me, so I drove home alone around 4:00 PM the same day I lost Coco. The drive was horrific. I shouldn’t have been driving. The tears were so heavy, the road so blurry… I nearly rear‑ended a car, but God protected me once more.
On that drive, with conviction bursting from my soul, with the kind of desperation that only true grief knows, I prayed aloud. I asked God for one thing: “Father, please, if Coco’s life had meaning on this Earth and if Coco’s soul is indeed with you in Heaven now, please send Coco to my dreams tonight. Let me see him in my dreams one more time”. I asked for nothing else.
I didn’t ask for strength.
I didn’t ask for peace.
I didn’t ask for relief.
Just Coco.
Why did I ask this of God? I just wanted to know that his life and my love still mattered. But satan whispered doubts into my broken heart. Grief can be a spiritual battlefield, and satan does not fight fair.
The Lies Grief Tells: A Battle For Faith
Within hours of Coco’s passing, satan attacked my spirit with thoughts:
Coco did not have a soul.
Coco did not have a spirit.
Coco just simply ceased to exist.
Coco’s life had been in vain. He didn’t matter.
How can God create something that simply ceases to exist?
God wasn’t real.
Our lives have no meaning.
If Coco’s life had no meaning, my life had no meaning either.
I didn’t matter and had no purpose.
Those lies crushed me. My rheumatoid arthritis and fibromyalgia flared violently. Physical and emotional pain tortured me all night. No amount of medication helped. I couldn’t sleep, not for one second. I was exhausted, but the pain held me captive and awake.
The Prayer That Broke Through the Darkness
Just before 7:00 AM on July 2nd, with my eyes closed, I felt the weight of something lying across my legs. Something warm. Something familiar. I opened my eyes and Coco was there! Coco. He was lying right next to me, just as he used to be. Calm, still, resting on my legs as if nothing had changed. I reached out and stroked his soft head one more time. My breath caught in my throat.
God had answered my plea. I was awake. This was not a dream. I knew it in the depths of my bones. I believed with all my heart. God allowed my baby to be here with me again. To visit me from Heaven. In that moment, I closed my eyes to pray and thank God, tears pouring from my eyes as I prayed in gratitude, and when I opened my eyes again, he was gone. But now I knew.
Some will say it was just a dream. That was my mind’s defense mechanism. But I know what I saw. What I felt. It was real. Call it a vision. Call it grief. Call it divine.
I call it God’s mercy. God reassured me through that moment that Coco mattered. His life, short, furry, and full of joy, was filled with divine purpose. And I believe with all my soul that Coco waits for me in Heaven.
God allowed Coco’s spirit to return for one final goodbye. He confirmed that our bond was not severed by death; it was made eternal.
The message was clear:
God gave me one last moment with my baby, a supernatural goodbye.
God heard me.
God answered me.
He showed me Coco’s life had meaning.
Coco’s spirit lives.
Coco’s life mattered.
His soul is with him in Heaven, and he is waiting for me.
My Coco had a purpose: my Heaven and my reward.
God’s Truth Over the Enemy’s Lies
Science and non‑believers may say that certain beings have no soul, that life simply disappears. But God says:
Psalms 50:10–11
“For every animal of the forest is mine and the cattle on a thousand hills. I know every bird in the mountains, and the insects in the fields are mine.”
Every creature matters to God.
Even after God showed me the truth, I struggled and questioned so many things about creation and life. I searched Scripture. I researched. My sister recommended a book that helped me immensely: Biblical Proof Animals Do Go to Heaven by Steven H. Woodward. Between the Bible and that book, God gave me comfort and the knowledge I needed. He gave me peace and clarity. He whispered to my heart:
Coco had a purpose.
Coco had a soul.
Coco is home with Me.
Grieving Your Fur‑Baby
If you’re grieving a loss like mine, I want you to know..... I want you to hear this:
Your baby mattered.
God doesn’t do coincidence. Your baby fulfilled God’s beautiful purpose for their life. They were chosen for you. And you were chosen for them.
God placed that furry angel in your arms intentionally to love you with a love humans can’t always express.
Now they have returned to their Creator.
A part of their spirit remains with you.
And the rest waits joyfully in Heaven.
Here on Earth, our journey continues through tears and laughter, through grief and healing. But one day, we will be reunited with both our Creator and our beloved babies.
And one day, when your race is run, you’ll be welcomed not only by your Heavenly Father, but by those pawprints that once tiptoed across your floors and your heart.
Until that moment… we walk forward with hope. They are a part of your soul’s story.
As for me, until that day, I carry Coco in every step of my journey.
And one day…
I will see my CocoBear come running toward me again....... My Heaven and my reward.
Elohim Li — God is for me. God is for us.
xoxo,
Karen Estrada