Choco's Triumph: The Memory that will Endure

Remembering the life of Choco, the brother who gave me love and happiness, and an example to follow

CHOCO THE DOG

Anher Ordonez

8/15/2025

Coco. That was the name given when we asked about the scruffy little brown dog available for adoption. Coco was one of hundreds of dogs up for adoption that day at Hart Park. With so many available options, one could easily have overlooked Coco. He was a smaller dog, a mixed breed stray who didn't look particularly dapper and excited to be there. If you were looking for a glamorous dog, Coco wasn't it. He looked like had come right from the streets(which he probably had).

Finding a dog was a a big deal for me in those years. I knew I wanted a dog, but what kind of a dog? A husky? A Golden Retriever? A Labrador? It was hard to visualize what I wanted. I had never had a dog before. In Puerto Rico there was a dog from the house below that would visit me everyday, saying hello and letting me pet him. I often visited the shelter at Castaic with my parents and loved saying hello and spending time with the dogs there. Being at the adoption fair, and choosing which dog to adopt, was a whole different beast.

That was until I saw Coco. I was instantly drawn to that brown dog. Coco noticed me too, and held my gaze. I insisted to my parents that Coco was the companion that we had been looking for all along. Though they seemed unsure at first, they eventually acquiesced. They paid the $20 adoption fee and did all the paperwork. We brought Coco home with us, where we gave the newest member of our family a brand new name to christen his new life.

On that 10th of October, Coco became Choco.

The Early Years

It didn't take long for Choco to grow into his new habitat. He gravitated towards the balcony. There he could look down upon the trees and the grass. He could get some sun, breath fresh air, and most importantly, he could bark at any squirrels that dared annoy him. Choco's incessant campaign against the squirrels of Old Orchard would go on unabated for the years to come.

Curious to learn more about his new neighborhood, Choco insisted that we take him everywhere we went. In the morning when walking to school, Choco would accompany Dad and me. After dropping me off at school, Choco would bark at the kids in the yard, as if saying hello. This became a sort of routine for much of 6th Grade.

Whenever I'd go shoot hoops at the park, Choco would want to come with me. When any of us would go for a walk, he would bark to come along. He always wanted to be a part of what we were doing, and never seemed to run out of energy for us.

If there was ever a perfect place to observe Choco's personality with other dogs, it was the dog park. As soon as he arrived, Choco would start running around and barking. He was bold and unafraid, making his presence clearly felt. As if he was calling back upon his rough beginnings, Choco would pick out the big dogs and start barking at them. He seemed unafraid of the idea of messing with a big dog(the presence of a fence separating the smaller dogs from the big dogs probably helped with that), and it felt like he was showing off how tough he was in front of the smaller dogs.

At home Choco became attached to his toys. Most notable was an orange plastic ball that Choco became inseparable from. He'd never let go of it, always chewing on it. He was ruthless with his toys, and they did not last long. Before I knew it, Choco was chewing on my soccer balls and action figures.

Choco would become the perfect sparring partner for Pepe and Anheros, my two old stuffed bears. I'd use the bears as wrestlers, who would jump on Choco and force him to fight back. Choco was more than up to the task, fighting them off his back and pinning the bears against the floor. Choco would usually win, and afterwards I'd let him toss the bears around as his spoils of war.

In those years, and especially the early months when he was still a puppy, Choco loved when we'd play with him. One game that I remember well involved my dad flipping Choco on his back, grabbing his four paws, and swinging him back and forth on the carpet(like a train). While doing so he'd sing a song from back home. Choco always seemed to love this and played along.

Speaking of playing, who could forget that winter day when we took Choco to the mountains up north? That whole area had been covered in snow, which is a rare sight in SoCal. It was the dog's first ever time seeing snow, and he ate it up wholeheartedly. Up and down he leaped, diving into the snow with blistering enthusiasm and frenetic zeal. He looked like a snow fox out there. The snow was no match for him.

One of the most unexpected consequences of having a pet is the fact that every trip and vacation one could possibly think of is complicated by a very important question: who will take care of the dog? For us we didn't wish to leave Choco with a dog sitter, and the dog hotels were too expensive, so we would take him along with us when we did travel. One such occasion was when we traveled to San Francisco, a trip that required my parents booking a hotel that would welcome a dog. We did find such a hotel, located across the bay in Oakland. After sneaking Choco in a bag to avoid paying the fee, we realized that we had just booked the worst hotel ever. We didn't spend much time in San Francisco and that awful hotel, but Choco managed to enjoy himself and the sights around San Francisco.

Among the things that stick out the most about Choco was his penchant for being close to you. In those years Choco would often sleep with you, and even when he went to sleep in his own bed, by the morning you'd wake up with him next to you. I remember him sleeping on top of me. It felt comforting and reassuring, almost like he was protecting me during the night. Later on, when he no longer could be allowed on beds, this became one of the things I missed most.

He loved getting attention from us. In fact he craved it so much that even when at times we tried to ignore him, he'd lean on his back two paws and lift up his front two paws in a delicate balancing act. Between this and the high-pitched whining, it was impossible to ignore him for long. He'd always get his way.

We never had much luck teaching him tricks. He managed to learn one, where he'd stick out his paw to us whenever we'd say la patita, or little leg. We would grab his paw and shake it, almost like a handshake. The difficulty in training Choco extended to other things, such as brushing his teeth . He wouldn't allow it, stubbornly preventing my mother from being able to brush his teeth. It was one of his distinctive traits.

This was life with Choco. The weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years. Choco and I grew up together, with Choco entering young adulthood and me entering middle school and then high school. Choco progressively grew out of some of his puppy habits, and settled into adulthood.

A Steady Presence

Nothing could beat the feeling of coming back home from school and being greeted by Choco. Even before I opened the door I could already hear his barking. As soon as I opened the door he would rush forward, seeking my touch. I would pick him up and give him a big hug. Sometimes, when I'd get picked up by my parents, Choco would be there in the car. He would sense that he'd see me soon, and wouldn't stop whimpering until he'd see me.

Choco was the type of dog that was always by your side. Whenever you'd feel sick or weak he would be there, supporting and giving all his love. In 6th grade I had a leg injury and had to rest for a few days at home. Choco was more than happy to keep me company.

Whenever family or friends would come visit, one of the first things they'd notice when entering our home was the little dog making his presence felt. He was a force of nature, and impossible to ignore. How could you not crouch down to pet this adorable animal? He was a sweetheart, somebody impossible to forget once you met him. In the eyes of everybody else, he became inseparable from me and my parents. He was family.

Choco could be a sweetheart, but he could also be a troublemaker. His most persistent offense consisted of him pillaging the bathroom and taking out all the stuff in the trash can. This was messy, and upset my parents. They would scold Choco, but he always had an ace in his back pocket to get the heat off his back. He would flip on his back, put his paws up, and look at us. It was clever, in a way admitting his remorse yet at the same time employing his cuteness to soften us up. It was impossible to stay mad at him whenever he'd look at us from this position.

You'd also have to mention all the mischief that Choco would get up to. He never had a doghouse, much less a room, to himself, but he managed to create his very own lair in our own home. How? He turned the space underneath my parents' bed into his territory. Only he could fit in this very small space, and the bed was so big that Choco could crawl underneath and be practically impossible to reach.. Here you never knew what you'd find. Dog bones. Old rubber balls that no longer worked. Missing socks that he had seized and never returned. Toys of mine that I'd been searching for, kidnapped and kept in Choco's dark domain. If you asked him to come out voluntarily, he'd look at you from the dark. Because of his fur color, only his eyes would be visible, and he'd growl at you. We would rarely try to get him from here; the few times we did manage to get him out, we had to pull him out by grabbing his back legs. It was a whole ordeal.

It's safe to say that Choco enjoyed his time in Old Orchard and Santa Clarita. His favorite pastimes included taking walks with us, playing with his toys and bones, going to the dog park, and his most favorite hobby of them all, barking at the squirrels from the balcony. It was here that Choco and I grew up together. What seemed like a lifetime finally came to a close. I graduated high school and prepared for university., and we moved from the valley to a different valley down south.

A new life for me, and Choco as well.

Grown Up Life

By the time we moved from Old Orchard, Choco was definitely no longer a puppy. He had mostly abandoned playing with his toys and balls. He no longer had any interest in chewing on bones. The games we had played together for years no longer seemed to interest him. No more wrestling with Pepe and Anheros. No more train games. There were not as many squirrels in our new neighborhood compared to our old, but when one did show up, Choco couldn't really be bothered. His interests were changing.

He had always loved to sun bathe, but in our new home he took this hobby to a new level. The balcony was a perfect place to get some sun. It had plenty of space for him, and all he needed to do was go out and lay down. The sun would take care of the rest.

In our new neighborhood there was less space to walk with Choco. When taking him out we had to be careful to not let go of him while being on the sidewalk, since the street was always full of cars. It was no longer an option to let Choco run around without a leash like we used to do in Old Orchard, where the pool area was fenced off and he could run around without worrying about cars. We had to be more careful.

The move took a noticeable toll on Choco. He had become used to his old life, and it would take time for him to adapt to his new home. The first noticeable challenge was the floor, which was very different from our old home. This new floor was hardwood, rather than carpet, and it was slippery. It made walking difficult for him as he was slipping all the time.

He genuinely seemed sad about the move, but over time he adapted to his new life. He no longer had the space underneath the bed as his lair, but he made the top of the sofa his new favorite place. Here he would look over the house, keeping an eye on all of us as we ate and watched television. In a way it was his command post, where he could keep order. From here he could also hear any sound coming from outside. He would often rush out to the balcony to bark at the intruding noise, and then he'd go back to his spot.

On Sunday nights my parents would take me back to my university. In keeping with the years-long tradition, Choco would accompany me on the ride to Malibu, sticking his head out as we'd ride down towards the beach. At Pepperdine we'd walk him around a bit, and if he saw a deer he'd bark at it. Choco loved going to Pepperdine. This was the routine for the first year of university.

We found a new dog park around Balboa for Choco to go to, one that was larger than the one from Santa Clarita. He loved this park, and loved running around and hanging out with all the other dogs. I did notice that he wasn't as spry and athletic as he used to be. It didn't take long for him to go back to me, basically communicating that he was done for the day. In his early years he could run around for hours. He'd outrun me whenever we'd race at the park. This was a more adult Choco. He didn't have endless energy.

After leaving the park, Choco would be panting with his tongue out. We'd give him water in a plastic cup, and Choco would drink it all up. I always found the way Choco would drink water both humorous and relaxing. Seeing him with his tongue out, tired after running around, and giving him the water in the car was a cool part of the dog park experience.

Choco's life in the valley during these years was in many ways predictable. We got used to seeing him jump around, on the bed and on the couch. He would jump onto our lap whenever we were seated. At night we'd take him out to walk and do his business. It seemed like this lifestyle would go on indefinitely for him.

But tragedy was around the corner.

The New Normal

A normal Summer day for him meant a very simple routine. Wake up, stretch, walk around, and settle down on the balcony to get sun. He'd go back inside and jump on the sofa and again to his command spot on top of the sofa. Here he'd stay for a while until he jumped back down. He'd eat and go to my mother. This would repeat itself throughout the day.

On such an ordinarily normal Summer day, Choco prepared to jump back on the sofa. He had just gotten off, and now was about to jump back on, because it was perfectly normal for him to keep jumping on and off. It was no big deal.

Only this time, it became a very big deal. He tried to jump, but something happened, and couldn't get up. He tried again. Same result. So he just remained there, motionless, almost stunned by what was happening.

It took a moment for us to notice what was happening. We realized that something serious had happened to Choco. Something affecting his ability to walk and jump. It got worse, as we soon realized that he would never be able to poop and pee by himself ever again. He had in effect lost control of his bodily functions, and he would need help.

Seeing my brother so sad and devastated was tough. There were times when it seemed like Choco was crying, with what looked like a tear visible on his face. We thought at the time he'd never walk again. He was a handicapped dog entering his senior years, and his prospects for the future didn't seem great. Our loved ones wondered what would become of our Choco.

My parents and I did not want Choco to feel bad. We made an effort to make him believe that there were many beautiful years still to come, and we would not be separated. He had done so much for us for so many years, and now we would show our gratitude to him by making sure he had everything he needed to thrive and be comfortable. Out came the diapers and potty pads and disinfectant spray. Our home became covered in pads so that Choco had plenty of convenient spots to urinate at. During the first weeks after the incident we tried using diapers, but they were too uncomfortable for Choco and were discontinued for the most part. Our house became covered in the smell of disinfectant spray, as we had to clean up after Choco.

For me the most difficult part of adapting to the new normal was denying Choco whenever he wanted to be on the bed next to me. Since I was a kid we had slept together, but now this simply couldn't be done any longer due to the risk of Choco defecating and urinating on the bed. This was a big loss for me. You could still lie with him on the couch, but it wasn't the same.

Golden Years

If there was ever any thought that Choco would fade in the aftermath of him becoming paralyzed, and become a shelf of his former self, all one needed for an answer was the way he moved around the house. Despite being severely weakened, Choco managed to find a way to walk again. He did it by stumbling around, struggling to keep his paralyzed waist up. The videos below show how he would walk.

He walked the way a handicapped dog would walk, but considering that I and others thought he'd never walk again in any capacity, it almost amounted to a miracle. We even started taking him to the park again, were he would walk around in his wonderfully imperfect way.

I think what motivated Choco the most in his determination to remain active was the attention and dedication my parents and I gave him in the aftermath of his incident. This served as fuel for him throughout the day, the idea of living for those moments that were so special. Moments such as when my mother would arrive from work every day and be met by Choco at the front door. Choco would be so happy to see her, and she would almost immediately grab him and help him urinate on the pad. For Choco, this was pure bliss.

He had always wanted to come with us whenever we went places, but now when we left home without him he'd get sad. When we went to Las Vegas for the Super Bowl, Choco wanted so badly to come that he followed me out the door. It must not have been easy, considering his limitations, but it showed how desperate he was to accompany us.

Everything became harder with him, yet the time we spent with him became even more rewarding and fulfilling. The times Choco would take a bath or get his nails clipped are memories that at the time you don't think much of, but now looking back on you can reflect and be fond of.

He kept on going, and was as lively as ever. Whenever we'd celebrate the holidays and birthdays, or host family and friends, Choco would be there to enhance the atmosphere with his warm presence. Any time I would sit down on the couch to watch the tv, I could count on Choco to be right next to me, laying on his favorite blanket. His soft silky ears were always a joy to pet, relaxing both me and Choco.

Other than being with us, the thing that gave Choco the most joy and satisfaction were the bone-shaped dog treats he couldn't get enough of. Originally meant to be a reward for good behavior, we ended up feeding him these treats at any time throughout the day. This was a dog we often needed to feed his normal food to by hand, but when it came to his treats he was insatiable. He always wanted more. Whenever my father would cut the dog biscuit treat to little pieces with a knife, Choco would crowd him and desperately try to get to the biscuit. His desire for the treat was such that he didn't care to wait for my father to finish and for the knife to be removed. I think that if he could have lived off these treats alone, he would have lived for ages. Such was his love for those Milk-Bone biscuits.

So through the power of love and dog treats, Choco got to enjoy some truly fulfilling golden years.

More Obstacles

Earlier it was mentioned that Choco had never allowed us to brush his teeth. This had been a fruitless endeavor by our part, and we eventually just gave up and conceded Choco his victory on this matter. We wouldn't try anymore to brush his teeth.

Turns out that there are consequences for not taking care of your teeth, and Choco started feeling them in old age. His mouth started to hurt and he had trouble eating. More than a decade without brushing had left his teeth in very bad shape. It was clear that if something wasn't done about this, it could develop into a potentially life-threatening issue for Choco.

We decided to take him to a veterinarian and have nearly all his teeth removed. It was a painful and challenging process for Choco that involved anesthesia and intensive care. He had to stay all night at the vet, and when he came back home he looked very weak and tired. Only his front teeth remained; all the other ones were gone. For the first days after we had to look after him and give him medicine for his recovery.

I was really concerned that he wasn't going to make it through this operation. I prayed the night that he was at the vet, hoping for the best. Choco made it through, but for several days after he wasn't his usual self(likely due to the anesthesia). However, he slowly managed to recover and get back to his normal routine. Things ended up turning out for the best. Choco's teeth would no longer bother him, and he could lick us again without us having to worry about germs. We would have to start dissolving his food in water, since he could no longer use his teeth.

Other issues started popping up. After years of managing to walk around in his weakened state, Choco had greater difficulty doing this and was forced to resort to dragging himself around. He would drag his behind around the floor, and this over time had caused a bulge to build up. We wrongly suspected it could be cancer, and even though it thankfully wasn't, it still caused issues for him. We had to take him to the vet and give him medicine.

He also developed kidney issues as well as an irregular heartbeat, and he couldn't hear and see as well as he used to. On top of everything he was starting to develop Alzheimer's, and there were times when you could tell that he had lost track of where he was. To help him out, I began talking to him more frequently and doing activities with him that would engage his attention.

Choco was no longer in his physical prime, but in spite of every obstacle he still managed to maintain a great attitude. He loved us and kept the house in positive spirits. He was still the top dog and my reliably awesome brother.

Make Every Moment Count

We were always conscious about how relatively short the life span of a dog was. For years I had wondered about when and how the day would come when Choco would no longer be physically here with me. When he turned 15 earlier this year, the idea occurred to me that he was old. Like really old. He was becoming an ancient dog.

In June the longtime dog of two of my relatives passed away. I had never seen a living being pass away before in person, and it left me very sad. I came back home and went straight to Choco. and held him. It was a reminder to cherish every moment I had left with him, because he was very old and soon it would be his time to go.

I began to play instruments and sing for him, keeping him engaged and from losing track of where he was. I went out and started sunbathing with him again in the balcony, something I had stopped doing. I even brought out his old sparring partners, Pepe and Anheros, from the closet to bring back the decade-old fights we used to do. Choco was not the snarling fiend he used to be as a puppy, but he was still strong enough to open his mouth in indignation and brush them off his back. He seemed to recognize the bears and spent time sniffing them in the couch.

We kept taking care of him until the very end. We tried to involve him in as much as possible. When we went to Pet Smart to get a special can of senior dog food for him, we took him along. He got to ride along in the cart through the store, almost like a guest of honor. It was cool to see him looking around the store, as if he were just another shopper.

When we went to Chick Fil A, we took Choco along in the car. Choco had always loved sticking his head out through the car window and feeling the air breeze through him. Even in his old age, he managed to stick his head out one more time and enjoy himself.

Honor his Memory

In June, we had been told by the vet that Choco had an irregular heart beat. On the 13th of July, Choco began experiencing difficulties breathing, which escalated the following day. That 14th of July, Choco struggled like never before. Nevertheless, he still managed to eat yogurt when I fed it to him on my fingers. He also managed to eat his favorite Milk-Bone dog biscuits, those treats he could never get enough of. It is fitting that those bone-shaped biscuit treats that he loved so much ended up being the last thing he ate.

We watched a movie together, before heading to the dog clinic. It was here that we said good bye to him. It was very sad, but I wanted to be strong for him. I told him how much I loved him, and that his memory would never be forgotten.

Congested heart failure was the cause for his physical death. He lived 15 good years.

The Example He Set

A month after his physical passing, I have had the chance to reflect upon what his life meant to me. We grew up as brothers, and together reached adulthood. His presence was like a tangible representation of my childhood, a time so past and yet so near. I could hold him and recall the days when he'd go to school with me, the times when he'd watch me swim at the pool. Regardless of what may have been going on at the time, I could hold him and be the happiest kid in the world.

Choco was tireless in life. He came from very harsh conditions, yet made the most of the opportunity when he met his brother. He started a new life and won the hearts of all. He was brave and loyal, undaunted, small in size but with enormous courage. Nothing could seem to keep him down. At times I wondered if there existed anything in the world that could possibly knock this iron-willed dog down for good. That strong was his will.

When I saw him at the clinic, he saw me and held my gaze. Just like when we first met. It is impossible to know for certain what he was communicating, but maybe that deep look he gave me meant that everything was going to be OK. He had lived a wonderful life and grown old. He had overcome the odds and left a legacy. I didn't have to worry about him anymore.

He had gotten to live his great adventure, and now it was my turn. This is what his expression seemed to communicate. Go forward.

I have no choice but to move forward. The coming years will be big for me. From now I move forward without a brother in my life for the first time since childhood. Yet while physically gone, Choco is more alive than ever. His example is strong and endures in me.

Even if the mountains burn and rock turns to ash, there is nothing In this world that can overcome a memory that endures. My heart teems with love for my brother. His barking shall never cease as I move forward.

More pictures of Choco throughout the years