I know the day you were adopted but not the moment because you popped out of the cardboard box they gave us. I was in the passenger seat with you, at nearly six weeks old, on my lap.
While J drove I grabbed you and threw the useless cardboard box in the back seat, hoping you wouldn’t do anything nasty sitting on my lap. You were so calm and sweet and have always been a “car dog.”
To this day you have your 4″ orthopedic mattress in the back and you only wake up on off-ramps or at stop signs/lights.
We named you Zoe, Greek for life. I’ve worked with animals for over 20 years and this is the happiest dog I’ve ever met. No, they won’t let her work as a therapy dog because she eats raw food. At age ten, I’m not going to change her diet.
People here don’t know my name but everyone knows hers. Zoe. We had to have her hips taken out as a pup due to severe hip dysplasia. She grew her own, as she was too small for titanium hips. For years she could corner around a tree and lose a Retriever chasing a ball.
Next week she goes in for her first elderly blood panel, shots and health check. She doesn’t get much chance to run here. All the dog parks are far away and the fines for off-leash activity are high. I always think of her in the outfield, waiting for the Chuck-it to hit and beat all the pups and dumb dogs. She would bring the tennis ball back and drop it at my feet. Then go back to the outfield.
Life without her would be really tough. At least this time I may have my husband at my side. I’ve been through four of these and each takes a part of your soul.
But today is a happy day and Zoe and my husband are sleeping soundly on our bed as I write. Zoe’s on my pillow. She won’t let me out of her sight. I’m the food wench!
Note: 1/30 was my mother’s birthday. She’s been gone over five years now. I made Zoe’s birthday 1/31 for reasons.