Memories

Well, the sad day I've been dreading finally happened. Two days ago, we had to put down our sweet dog, Zoe.

I'm just not a good enough writer to translate all my emotions into a post. I wish I was. I feel Zoe deserves a tribute to her life in return for all of the happiness she brought me.

We spent the past weekend putting all of our family videos onto DVD. Our memories of her involvement in the different stages of our life are fresher as a result of seeing our 14 years together condensed into two days.

I didn't finish all the video copying and was left with just two tapes on Monday afternoon. The first of those contained the day we brought her home.

On May 13th, 1995, we went to the breeder to pick out our new puppy - the one I wanted as our combined 32nd birthday gift. We still lived in our condo at the time. That night when she wailed out of loneliness, I slept of the floor next to her crate to quiet her.



When we moved into our first home a few months later, I remember a neighbor asking if we had any children. I responded, "No, we have a 4 month old puppy." She was obviously our 'practice baby'.

She was a very naughty and hyper puppy. She would bark incessantly when I was on the phone with clients. She knocked down children with her exuberance. She could jump 4 feet in the air.

Shortly after our move, The Swede's father died very suddenly. Zoe was unusually calm that day. She knew we needed comforting.

In 1997, we brought our first baby home and introduced Zoe to our new son. She instantly took to her boy by constantly lying under his bassinet.



She protected him on our first walk together by growling at another dog who got too close.

When our son woke us up crying in the night, she would run in by us in an urgent manner. You could tell she was trying to say "Do something!".

Another time, I was sitting on our front porch with our baby in his stroller and Zoe by my side. Our elderly neighbor was struggling with his garbage can. I ran across the street to help him and figured Zoe would seize the opportunity to burn off some of her pent up, Lab energy by running and jumping and generally misbehaving. After I placed the garbage can next to his house, he said, "That's a nice dog you got there." I turned back toward our house and, there she was, dutifully sitting next to her boy. She never moved a muscle.

She was a source of comfort to me when I lost my second pregnancy and spent my days home alone with my thoughts, silently grieving.

She traveled with us in each of our trailers to many different places. She followed me around the house constantly lying at my feet while I worked, and under the table while we ate.

She grew older and settled down.

One night about 5 years ago, she was awakened by an animal just outside our sliding door and bolted to the window. She must have hurt herself in the process because when I came running downstairs, her back legs were spread out and she was clawing on our wood floor, unable to get up. I helped her to stand but she was still acting very strangely. I panicked. The Swede brought her into the emergency animal hospital. While he was gone, I was worried sick. My mom and sister came over to calm me down. I remember thinking to myself, "If I'm this upset about my dog, how would I ever feel if something happened to one of our boys?"

A couple years later, she hurt her back leg jumping out of our car. She needed surgery. I cried as I left the vet, relieved that it was something that could be fixed.

From then on, I began to worry about her continually. She had difficulty walking. She gave up going upstairs. She started sleeping most of the time and I knew she was nearing her final years. I started to prepare myself because I loved this dog with my whole heart and I knew it was going to be hell to lose her.

When we moved into our new house two years ago, we had an invisible fence installed. The trainer placed me outside the shock zone to entice both dogs to walk to me so he could teach them that they'd get shocked if they went near the warning flags. Scout learned it easily. Zoe kept walking to me. The trainer would turn up the shock level and try again, but each time she would walk to me. Finally, the trainer realized that she didn't care if she got shocked, she just wanted to be with me.

A couple of days later, I had her out in the yard with me. I left where she was and went around front. She walked along 40 feet or so of shock area to get to me. When I saw what she did, I leaned over and took off her shock collar for good. She never wanted to leave my side even if it caused her tremendous amounts of pain to get to me. I suppose of all of my memories of her, that is the one I hold the most special. She was really bound to me.

And at the end she was frail and in pain and needed to go.

I miss her terribly.

I now find myself looking at the floor before I stand up so I don't step on her, or, catching out of the corner of my eye a white towel and turning to look, momentarily thinking it's her. I am instantly filled with the sickness of grief when I realize she's gone.

There will never be another dog in my life that will come close to filling her place in my heart.

She was my girl and she was the best.