Our daughter adopted a little stray pup last fall from a shelter in Chicago. Zoey was my introduction to little pups. I thought apartment sized dogs were yappy and snippy and too much work. I didn’t understand, in my heart of hearts, why people wanted a 15-pound dog.
Zoey educated me. I do not know how she managed all that soul in that tiny body. She barked if she thought my daughter was in peril, for which I respected her mightily. Most of the time she tip-tapped around on her tiny paws, throwing her own fur ball and then running like The Blazes to go get it. Her even more favorite activity was snuggling on the sofa next to my daughter (or whoever else was on the sofa) to help humans watch TV. I have never known a dog who loved to be under afghans that much!
They also went for lots of walk in the city. Sometimes she rode in the back seat of the car to help my kid come to visit Len and me.
Zoey was an impeccable guest. Delicate, loving, interested, ready to sit on or next to anyone’s lap.
More than a month ago she started seeming sick. Sometimes she was fine. Other times she didn’t want to eat and her digestive system would go frighteningly out of whack. Daughter took to her their vet four times in a month. Zoey had blood work, an x-ray and an ultrasound. No clear answer popped up.
Last week we went to get Zoey to bring her here. Zoey was so low when she was on a downswing that our daughter was afraid to spend the whole day at work. It was scary.
Len and I thought maybe she was getting better. But she wasn’t. This morning we took her to be put to sleep. Zoey doesn’t need to go through any more nights like the last few and either do we or our daughter.
I’m posting this because so many of you are our friends. Len and I don’t have the energy to retell this story over and over.
Zoey was a loving, delightful, smart, soulful little pup. We will miss her like crazy.