Several weeks ago we lost our sweet sweet dog, Zoey. She was a sweetheart who was always happy to see us and would always come casually strolling up with her tail wagging. She didn’t care what we were going to do, as long as she could do it with us: We’re going to watch tv, sure thing. Have a snack, you bet. Go outside and play, of course. Anything and everything made her happy as long as she was doing it with one of us.
She was special and she was my constant kitchen companion. I always said that she played the “long game” in the kitchen - just sitting patiently waiting for something to roll off my cutting board that she could snag. Like many labs, she would eat virtually anything at all from a piece of meat to an errant carrot. She didn’t care.
The night before she passed away she was fine when we went to bed, fine the next morning eating her breakfast, then, bam, she collapsed and could barely breathe. We scooped her up and took her to the vet who ran a bunch of tests. He said that suddenly and without warning her heart enlarged and she could not breathe without laboring. She was shaking all over and struggling to gather even a smidge of air. It’s something that can happen to older dogs and at 12.5 years old she had defied the odds and lived longer than many labs.
We left her at the vets office for him to run some tests, got a call later telling us the worst news, then returned to be with her in the final moments. On the way back to the vets office my husband turned to me and said, “These are the things they don’t tell you.” He’s right. If anyone had told me how hard it is to be an adult I would have stayed a kid forever.
If I had known I’d lose my parents at a young age, that I’d lose all my aunts and uncles over time, that my son would deploy, that my friends would get cancer, that friends babies would be born too early and struggle to make it, that friends would have to move away, that my dogs would die .... well, “these are the things they don’t tell you.” Nobody tells you this stuff because you wouldn’t want to keep on going.
I guess no one tells you how magnificent life can be either. I know now that I was lucky to have had extraordinary parents, gobs of aunts and uncles and even more cousins to grow up with. No one told me that when I had a baby boy 27 years ago that he would grow up to be my hero. No one told me that technology would allow me to stay in touch, like never before, with people far far away. No one told me that my children would marry wonderful partners and our family would just keep happily growing bigger. No one told me that my adult children and my brothers and sisters would be my best friends. No one told me that I’d be a “Gangy” (grandmom). No one told me I’d be happily married forever. No one told me how great my life would be.
“When we adopt a dog or any pet, we know it is going to end with us having to say goodbye, but we still do it. And we do it for a very good reason: they bring so much joy and optimism and happiness. They attack every moment of every day with that attitude.” Bruce Cameron in A Dog’s Purpose
Saying goodbye to my dear sweet Zoey was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. The loss of a dog, who is your family, is simply heartbreaking and I will always miss her. I will miss not being able to step on her when I get out of bed in the morning, I will miss her not meeting me at the door, I will always miss her quiet presence in the kitchen. I will also be grateful that she was such an important part of my life for so many years. RIP sweet girl.
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