The Love of a Dog

February 2011, I was sitting on the couch video chatting with my parents while away at college when my vet tech roommate timidly tip toed through the front door carrying a cat crate. Confused and curious I told my parents I’d call them back so I could investigate what animal my roommate brought home and why. Before I could ask, she offered “someone brought this dog into the clinic today and they wanted to euthanize her and I know how much you like Yorkies so I brought her home.” I didn’t know it then but the small creature whimpering in the kennel would burrow into my heart close to a ten year bond.

That was the day I met Zoey, a two year old, five pound frightened Yorkie who lost her previous owner. When I held her for the first time she shivered violently but with good reason because not only did she lose her owner but the people responsible for her wanted to put her to sleep instead of caring for her. My roommate continued to explain she was healthy outside of being purposefully dehydrated. “I brought her home because I know you want a dog and I didn’t want to leave her at the hospital but if you don’t want to keep her I can find another home for her.”

I was in shock due to the pressure of keeping this scared, ratty dog and equal sadness someone wanted to end her life. Instead of running around wagging her tail, Zoey clung to the back of the couch and in corners continuously shaking. It was true, I wanted a dog but not anytime soon and not during the last semesters of college with a full course load and job. But I agreed to keep her for a few days to ‘see how it goes’ unsure of my commitment.

Over the next three days I did not sleep well while Zoey cried in her kennel through the night. I remember waking up at 2am, 4am, and 6am to take her outside after her cries became screams that didn’t stop unless she was sleeping in bed with me. She barely ate even though you could feel her bones protruding and would sit in one spot on the couch avoiding eye contact. After the third night, I decided I couldn’t keep her and was going to tell my roommate to take her back so she could find another home.

A few more days went by until I found the courage to tell my roommate. Mentally preparing myself to break the news, I dreaded going home. But as I reached the pathway to our front door I could see Zoey sitting in the window, eyes scanning the perimeter. As soon as she saw me her ears drew up into a point, tail wagging and for the first time she barked, more like squealed high pitch shrills. Once inside, she ran around in circles repeatedly jumping a few feet in the air excited and full of energy. The withdrawn, nervous dog who only sat on the back of the couch shaking begged for my attention until I scooped her into my arms.

She showered my face with kisses wiggling her small but strong body almost falling out of my hold. Her eyes locked in on mine and I remember thinking, ‘this is it - I can’t give her back' and my heart melted as she danced around demanding all of my attention. Zoey became my shadow, imprinting on me as she pitter pattered behind every step through each room. Wherever I was, Zoey was there including the bathroom making sure I never left her sight.

Growing up, I had pets like rabbits and birds but never a dog or any animal that required affection and showed immense love. Through the days and weeks that passed her spunky, mischievous personality continued to emerge. She may have been small but like most small dogs she carried herself with the confidence of a large dog, making it known she was the queen of the house. But she also loved to explore outside, getting dirty as she rolled around underneath bushes. We did everything together including road trips, camping, and riding bikes as she sat in a large purse strapped to my side.

The first time she got sick, I sobbed imagining the worse like most dog owners. It never got easier as I would come to learn with each vet visit or surgery because I loved her more than I could express or explain. The love I had for her was different than any love I have felt for another human, it was unconditional even when she left little tootsie rolls for me to find.

When COVID required me to work from home, the sudden isolation from friends and co-workers was difficult but the bond between Zoey and I deepened spending all day together. There were days where she wouldn’t allow me to work for more than an hour through relentless requests for attention and often made an appearance on Zoom calls with my team.

After the igniting of civil rights protests, I became disheartened but Zoey comforted me through the most difficult days and provided endless joy with her antics and bursts of wild energy. Her presence was vital in my survival through the impacts of the pandemic and my gratitude for her strengthened in the weeks and months of social isolation. In truth, she kept me pushing through with long walks in the neighborhood, car concerts on our routine Saturday morning drives, and playing games in the house.

In November 2020, Zoey became a toothless old lady after having her remaining teeth removed with surgery. At the time, I found out her kidney levels were higher than normal but it wasn’t a cause for panic. She loved her new soft food diet and became even cuter with her tongue hanging out to one side of her mouth. But after a few weeks she stopped eating the food she enjoyed and despite numerous attempts of adding enticing ingredients her kidney values increased to dangerous levels. She spent two days in the hospital with no signs of improvement. The last night we spent together, I held her weak body while she held intense eye contact and I knew she likely wouldn’t make it through the weekend. Zoey knew it too but my heart wasn’t ready.

Dogs are incredible beings so saying goodbye is unbearable but I had to let go to give her peace. We had a long conversation where I told her how she changed my life as the best part of the last decade. On December 12, 2020, I tearfully said goodbye to Zoey, the most precious loving friend I have ever had. It is still painful but I hold her memory close and always will.