Two kids and Coco—the beginning of our lively family record

I am raising two children, and our home is also shared by Coco, our fourteen-year-old black smooth-haired dachshund.

Written in one sentence, that sounds like a peaceful family introduction. An actual day is less orderly. Keeping up with two children moving at different speeds can consume the day, and sometimes I feel uneasy that I did not slow down enough to notice how Coco was doing.

Coco’s hearing has faded with age. He does not always respond when I call, but he is still active and sometimes behaves so much like a person that I forget to think of him as simply a dog. We have been together long enough for ordinary days to feel permanent, yet I now notice more often that they will not always look the same. I want this space to preserve our real family scenes and Coco as he is now, rather than present a perfectly organized guide to parenting.

Two children do not simply double the experience

An approach that worked well for the first child may do nothing for the second. They hear the same words differently, enjoy different kinds of play, and become upset for different reasons. I once assumed that having been through something once would make the second time easier. I now know how optimistic that was.

The lesson I repeat most often is not to compare them. It is easy to say and difficult to practice. I notice how quickly each child gets ready, how long they concentrate, and how they react after losing a game. I try to look at what each one finds difficult instead of deciding who is faster. I do not always manage it. On tired days, my voice sometimes becomes louder before my judgment catches up.

I want to keep those failures here too. If I save only the methods that worked, I may eventually forget why a particular season felt hard.

Wanting to preserve more of fourteen-year-old Coco

Coco is fourteen. He reacts more slowly to sound than he once did, but when he wants to move, he is still determined and energetic. His expressions and the way he makes his wishes known can feel less like watching a dog and more like living with a person I have known for a very long time.

As his age has begun to feel significant, I pay closer attention to changes in his health. I try to notice ordinary things: whether he eats comfortably, sleeps well, and walks the way he usually does. A journal cannot replace veterinary care, but a record of normal days may help me recognize a change earlier.

More than anything, I do not want to look back and wish I had taken more photographs or written down more. Even on an uneventful day, I want to remember the expression with which Coco watched us and the way he shared the same space with the children.

Why Coco became the first pet in Haru Space

My reason for wanting a pet feature in Haru Space is closely connected to Coco. I did not want the space to contain only tools that execute functions. I imagined a familiar companion—something people could speak to comfortably and build memories with, like a presence that had stayed beside them for years.

That is why Coco became the first pet in Haru Space. It does not mean trying to copy the real Coco into a screen exactly. When I pictured a companion that quietly stays nearby and adds warmth to conversations between people, Coco was the first presence that came to mind.

As the real Coco grows older, that choice feels more meaningful. I want to preserve his health and our time together in this journal, while the Coco in Haru Space continues as the first companion in a place for making and remembering things together.

I want to record play and games as processes

Board games and video games often reveal sides of the children I did not expect. They may try to rewrite a rule, struggle with losing, or discover a solution that never occurred to me.

I do not want to declare that a particular game is “good for education.” I would rather write about where the children had fun, what caused an argument, and how the time and cost felt from a parent’s point of view. A widely praised game may not fit our home, while an unplanned activity may become a lasting favorite.

Outings and hands-on experiences will receive the same treatment. Fame matters less to me than whether taking two children and Coco there was practical and whether I would genuinely want to return.

I will keep records without putting the children’s lives on display

The more I write about family, the clearer the limits become. I will not use the children’s names, schools, exact regular locations, schedules, recognizable faces, or routines as material for this journal. My wish to share a charming moment should not be more important than their future right to choose which parts of their lives are public.

Stories about Coco’s health will remain accounts of what our family observes and experiences. I will not present them as instructions that apply to every dog, and I will rely on qualified professionals when a real decision is required.

What I plan to leave here

I will begin with ordinary things that actually happened in our home:

• games and activities we tried, including reactions I did not expect;
• practical lessons and failed plans from weekend outings;
• the way siblings return to one another after an argument;
• health changes and the still-active daily life of fourteen-year-old Coco;
• records of the real Coco and Coco as Haru Space’s first pet;
• what I missed as a parent and what I tried differently next time.

The children will keep growing, and Coco is now fourteen. A day that now feels endlessly repeated will eventually become a scene we cannot revisit.

I am not trying to leave proof that I raised anyone perfectly. I want to keep the time our family spent learning, clumsily but together.

This is the first page of my record of two children and Coco.