Where Do I Start?
For over sixteen years Zoe was my constant. The sounds of a Pug/Boston Terrier always in the background. Countless opinions expressed. A raptor testing the fences of limits. Unwavering determination to achieve whatever came to her mind.
From Day One
As cliche as it is, the moment I came across her photo on Kijiji I knew she was the one. It clicked. The stars had aligned. Then came weeks of worrying something wouldn't work out followed. Fear that the money order wouldn't arrive, the seller would change her mind, the seller wasn't real and so on. During this wait only one other photo was sent. Her in a bush. Odd photo choice at the time I thought, but as she grew up that would be one of her quirks.
She’s Real!
Plans were made, the wait was over time to get to Stettler Alberta. While that is technically in the middle of no where, the trip wasn't an unfamiliar one. Growing up I made a bunch of friends across Western Canada playing Quake and other games online. Our local friend group would travel out to Kelowna, Calgary and Edmonton quite often as a result. The only difference was this one was not planned at the last minute and had a purpose. Time to bring the prairie dog to the west coast.
From that trip, I remember the fear in Zoe's mom's eyes as yet another of her pups was being stolen. I also remember Zoe howling non-stop as soon as she got in the car. "Oh what did I do?" and "has she ever even been in a car? let alone for twelve hours?". Turns out she just needed to pee. First lesson of a new puppy owner, check. That first night in a hotel somewhere in the Rockies she demanded sleeping on my pillow and must be pressed up against my face. It clicked.
Growing Older Together
There are too many memories to go over in this much detail.
She was a puppy that challenged you on a daily basis. Destroyer of walls, TV remotes and an entire couch. She'd beat any challenge placed in front of her to slow her down. One child gate should contain her right? Nope! Springs for legs.
The pug side kicked in thankfully, after two years of all out crazy, slowing her down a bit.
She was very much a "friends with humans" type dog. She was a great ambassador of dogs for children both over zealous and over coming fear. Zoe was picky when it came to dog friends with only a few passing the test. She found joy in trying to irritate any small fluffy dog until they started to bark at her.
She picked up swimming late in life. She always loved the beach mountain goating around the boulders and logs washed up on shore. We picked up a life jacket on the whim and it unlocked a crazed beast. Never one for fetch at the park; absolutely would not stop when she got in the ocean.
For me, she was the perfect companion over the years. The constant snoring in the background of all night gaming sessions a fixture in our group chats. A dog that had opinions. Had a personality. She'd challenge you when she had an objective in mind. A rare beast that could care less about thunder but would freak out when the smoke alarm would go off.
As she grew older, the challenges changed. Her body started to fail her. Her mind and determination never slowed. Near the end we would spend hours at the park. Those who knew us would come by, sit down and visit. It was a routine, a time of reflection, the sense a chapter coming to a close.
The Day
The decision came quick. The "one day" to "some day" to "how is it today?" arrived so unthinkably fast. Over sixteen incredible years. A devastatingly bad week and one day that still echos in my mind almost five months later.
Goodbye
I miss her. Every day. Being able to work from home during and after the pandemic allowed me to spend more time with her in the final years. But it also meant she was my constant more than ever.
There is a piece missing.
I'm writing this as I have not fully processed everything. I have not truly expressed my thoughts verbally or externally to anyone. Not to my partner, my family or friends. I don't have the words. I fear I might never be able to. Or when I can, it will seem too late. Slowly things are normalizing.
One day, I look forward to entertaining the thought of finding another dog. The daily joy and challenges. The companionship. The sounds. She'll never be replaced but maybe I can find that piece of me again.
