Easy like Cocoa

Cocoa, draped across the patio chair, head wedged dramatically between the rails like she’d given up on the world… or maybe just on the squirrels that wouldn’t come close enough.

There was something theatrical about moments like this. Cocoa didn’t just rest—she posed. She made you laugh, then made you feel like you should apologize for laughing. It was all part of her charm.

Cocoa wasn’t just easy to love—she expected to be adored. And we didn’t mind one bit.

She didn’t demand affection. She didn’t ask you to prove anything.

She just was. And loving her was effortless. Natural. A privilege dressed in fur.

She wasn’t a rescue. She didn’t arrive with baggage or bruises. There were no walls to tear down, no wounds to heal.

Cocoa came into our lives already whole—already confident in the safety of love, like someone who had only ever known gentleness.

And that, in its own quiet way, was powerful.

Because it reminded me that not all love is born from redemption. Some love enters without apology, without pretense—fully formed and wide open. Some love doesn’t need to be fixed. It simply needs to be received.

Cocoa didn’t teach me how to build trust.

She taught me what it looks like when love never had to hide in the first place.

Having that kind of love so freely… it reminded me just how rare it is.

Because most days, love isn’t easy.

Not with people. Not even with some dogs.

Love can be complicated and messy. It asks us to show up, to soften when it would be easier to shut down. It asks us to see past the behaviors and into the bruises.

And still—I believe it’s worth offering anyway.

Because love, to me, isn’t just a feeling.

It’s a practice.

It’s what I return to again and again.

Love is my religion.

Not the kind with pulpits and pews, but the kind that shows up in action. In patience. In choosing grace when judgment would be quicker. In staying when it would be easier to walk away.

Cocoa didn’t require that kind of work.

She was the reward. The reminder of what love can feel like when it’s unburdened.

But in a world full of hard edges, her softness was a sermon.

So I carry this picture not just as a memory, but as a lesson. A reminder to keep choosing love—even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.

Because if love can be this easy sometimes—

Then surely, it’s worth the effort the rest of the time.