Sorry
for the silence this week; it’s been a tough one. What time I’ve spent in the kitchen has been
devoted to cooking not for us but for Zoë.
Zoë
is our 12 1/2 year old shepherd mix, a gorgeous lanky girl who back in the day
could run like an arrow, pluck a tennis ball out of the air, and keep on going
into tomorrow without missing a step. Stationary
she was gawky and uncoordinated, but once in motion she was a canine ballerina,
slim and muscled and graceful to watch. Her penchant for racing after deer
caused us to install a couple of fences, but eventually it was old age, not
chain links that slowed her down.
These
days arthritis keeps her confined to the couch, or the blanket under my desk, arthritis
and the kidney failure she was diagnosed with nearly six months ago now. That
diagnosis came two weeks after we lost Daphne, one of our sweet yellow labs, to
liver disease. Daphne’s primary symptom was that she would not eat and though I
cooked her every good dog thing I could think of, she just turned her head away. Feeding, of course, is what I do, what I need
to do. But for Daphne I could do nothing
at all but hold her and love her and say goodbye.
So
Daphne died, and then Zoë got sick and at first it looked like we would
lose her right away. She too lost her
appetite, and there was I, back at the stove, trying to concoct just the right
mix of ground beef or roast chicken with rice and broth to get her juices
flowing again. By the grace of a good
vet and a little internet research we got her stabilized and relatively healthy
–- a three month rally that was a total joy. From the middle of May to just a week or so ago we could practically
pretend that nothing was wrong with her, except that we were cooking a lot of
chicken and buying huge sacks of rice at Sam’s because chicken and rice is all
she would eat. But eat it she did, and this
summer was good.
Boy,
said a friend, hearing of our culinary efforts on Zoë’s behalf and clearly
thinking we’d gone over the edge, she is one lucky dog. Maybe. Not as lucky as we are, though, and for all that these furry guys have
given me, I’d roast a whole world of chicken thighs and simmer an ocean
of rice.
Because
it’s true, as all dog lovers will understand, that every dog who has lived at
our house has been wiser than I in some fundamental way, and has shared that
wisdom with unstinting doggy generosity, asking only the occasional, stinky
pigs ear in return. Max, beloved little
schnauzer dogging my steps, taught me about faithfulness and loyalty, Clio
about scrappiness and the value of telegraphing don’t-mess-with-me right from
the start of a difficult encounter. Daphne Alice was the essence of fun, a joker of a dog, and she
taught me not to be afraid of playing the fool once in a while if it makes you
feel good and gets you a laugh.
Zoë,
oh my dear Zoë, has taught me about gusto and zest – not just for bread and pizza
but for hugs and kisses and every good thing that comes your way. Regina Marie (Gina for short), Daphne’s
litter mate, is as queenly as her name, though age has given her a less than
regal limp. Gina reminds me of the
importance of dignity and boundaries, and of knowing when its time to cast both
aside. Ginger, dog of my heart, has a fearless soul, an intrepid spirit (except
when it comes to thunderstorms, when it’s my job to protect her from the big
dog in the sky.) When I need a role
model for guts, I carry Ginger in my heart. Bandon, little bear of a dog, tells me to speak in a loud voice and to
be sure I am heard. He’s louder than
I’ll ever be, but it something to aspire to.
I’ve
saved a lot of dollars in unneeded therapy with this pack of dogs I have loved. Lessons learned, hurts healed, tears shed and
more laughs than I can count. I don’t
know how I’ve deserved it, but the luck is all mine.
With Zoë the summer’s respite is over. She is feeling crappy and very little tastes good to her. I shred some chicken, cut up some roast beef, pull apart some bread (once her favorite), give her the crusts of my pizza broken into tiny pieces (this for a dog who once scored an entire fresh tomato pizza off the kitchen counter all by herself.) She is still sweet and affectionate and clear-eyed, but she is teaching me yet something else. You’ve fed me well, mom, now it’s time to let go.
What a lovely tribute. Zoe will always be lucky to have had such a wonderul human as you. Peace to your wonderful dog.
Posted by: braingirl | August 18, 2006 at 08:05 PM
Oh Christine, my heart aches for you. Loving and losing a so bitter-sweet
Posted by: scott | August 18, 2006 at 08:06 PM
Very sad and I am sending all good thoughts. I can fully relate. We lost a 10 year old briard in February this year. Amazing how attached we are to our dear pets. What a lovely tribute of you to her!
Posted by: Bea at La Tartine Gourmande | August 24, 2006 at 08:43 AM
It is so wonderful to see your life with your dogs. They give us so much and ask so little. Zoe is a wonderful dog, and I am happy to know her. You are doing so much to make her comfortable and loved.
Posted by: Fenton | August 30, 2006 at 11:37 AM
Lovely. We also watched our dogs, once vibrant and lively, grow old (they had no right!). My father cooked for them with the same love and affection he used when he cooked for us because they were part of our family and deserved it for brightening our lives the way they did. Cheers to Zoe and to you.
Posted by: Liz | September 01, 2006 at 04:15 PM
Beautifully written, and so sad. I am housesitting two dogs this week and quickly becoming attached to them. It is not going to be easy for me to give them back after just 10 days, so it is hard to imagine giving up a beloved hound for ever.
My thoughts are with you.
sam
Posted by: sam | September 01, 2006 at 05:23 PM
Bless you for being such a good dog mommy. All my wishes for the best.
Posted by: buttercup | September 02, 2006 at 12:09 AM
i've never read your blog before, but was directed here by matt armendariz to read about your beautiful girl zoe. as a dog lover, my heart breaks and aches for you and i wish i knew some words that might make things easier. it sounds though, like maybe you already know all the right words. my heart is definitely with you and your sweet zoe. certainly you are blessed with zoe, and certainly zoe is blessed with you as her dogmom. i wish for you nothing but beautiful time with zoe, whatever time you have left.
Posted by: melissa mcgee | September 02, 2006 at 11:24 AM
Christine, this is such a loving post and a sad one too. It really touched me and i hope however much time Zoe has that it would be so beautiful. You are and have been a great mom to her.
Posted by: Mae | September 02, 2006 at 04:02 PM
I just finished reading your post and I find that familiar lump and closed throat sensation setting in. I lost my best buddy of 12 years just 3 weeks ago. Your post is beatiful and so incredibly true. My Harpo taught me much about loyality and the excitement and pleasure that exists under each bush, around every corner, and in every flower. What I have now is the knowledge that we brought a ton of joy into each other's lives. It sounds like Zoe totally gets that. You are both "lucky dogs."
*sigh* Dogs. Rotten little wonderful scoundrels. :)
Posted by: Kevin | September 02, 2006 at 09:27 PM
Accept our condolenceses. Such a beautifully written tribute to a devoted friend. I'm fighting back tears reading this, relating your loss of our beloved Schnauzers, Oprah and Demi, both gone within a matter of months. Bless you.
Posted by: Harry | September 04, 2006 at 12:59 AM
Yes, meals, and life, should be good to the last bite.
Sometimes we wipe the plate clean with a treasured crust. Sometimes we push the plate away with a lingering gaze and the knowledge we've had enough.
Cheers
Posted by: Belltown Bent | September 05, 2006 at 01:19 PM
We don't deserve all that they give us, do we? Lovely writing.
Posted by: jared | September 05, 2006 at 03:42 PM
There is something so special about dogs -- they teach us so much, but you have to be a willing student. Your tribute to Zoe and all of your other canine friends was so beautiful.
I feel so blessed to have our black lab, Winnie, just 4 years old and still full of spunk and mischief.
Posted by: Charmaine | September 12, 2006 at 10:45 AM
This is such a poignant story which brought tears to my eyes. Zoe & Daphne were blessed to have you as you were blessed to have them.
I pray for you and for your dearly departed dogs. I know how awful it feels to lose a dog, as I have lost a few.
Now, I have 3 more & they're between 5-7 years of age. I'm fearful of how age will get to them, yet I am grateful for everyday that they're by my side.
God bless u & your canine family!
Posted by: Karen | October 09, 2006 at 02:13 PM
I love my alpha animal last week, 17 years of paws-around-the neck hugs and making room for herself on the desk between me and the laptop. Tearing up again now ... pets to the dog and to you.
Posted by: Alanna | October 10, 2006 at 09:32 AM