This, ladies and gentlemen, is Zoe.
She is the greatest dog in the entire universe. Bar none.
When we got Zoe I was 16 and I’d wanted a dog for…oh, my whole life. She came home at just seven weeks and was really the cutest thing EVER. Just absurdly adorable. Soft and fluffy and a little sassball.
Zoe is a family dog–let’s be clear that she loves everyone in our family, and she is a family dog–but I want to talk about my relationship with her.
Zoe has been sleeping with me since she was four months old. Every night, I lie down and she either curls up next to me or comes over and rests her chin on my shoulder, curling into me. When I stop rubbing her, she usually grunts a little and paws at me until I keep petting her. She’s very firm on this point.
She totally talks to me. I talk to her too, of course, keeping up an almost constant patter. She talks back, looking at me in certain ways, or coming up to me indicating that she needs something.
When I take her for walks, she almost never goes on a leash–instead she darts ahead of me and comes back every few moments to check in. She understands when I tell her to get her stick, or ball, or toy, or go look for a squirrel.
She has multiple moods. There’s the tired, cuddly mood, which I love. There’s the wild mood, when she tears around the woods or park or beach like a maniac. There’s her I WILL BARK AT YOU mood, which is less pleasant. She’s just…she is the sweetest, loveliest dog. I honestly never knew it was possible to love an animal this much. When we’re not together, I miss her like crazy. She wasn’t with us when my grandmother was dying, and I physically ached for her.
That’s my girl. I adore her. How could I not? See: