When I wrote this, I was still cocooned alone, off all forms of social media. I never shared this with anyone - I wasn’t ready or able to begin to think about how I could do that.

But love letters are meant to be shared - and I think she’ll get this no matter when I finally could bring myself to share.

To all of you animal lovers out there - please give your best good girls and boys an extra pet in memory of our Zoey, will you?

A Letter to My Dog - Written January 17, 2020

Last Saturday, our best good girl Zoey crossed the rainbow bridge.

With thousands of images captured of her over the years, I should have a limitless supply of words to honor her - but I already know. There will never be enough words or pictures to explain how much I loved her.

Over the years, I’ve learned that there are no “right” things to say when life gets hard or messy. This misguided assumption sets us up for failure, because as we worry and fret about what to say - we say nothing.

It’s best to just show up - stumbling tongue and awkward attempts - and be present as ourselves. So, here we go, my darling girl. I’m here to do my best, and as always - hope that it’s enough.

Zoey,

When we adopted you in June of 2011, I was worried. We had previously attempted to adopt a dog under terrible circumstances, and it hadn’t worked out. She found another family, but the whole experience was rushed and stressed and just not right.

When we decided to try again, we went to the humane society with a PLAN. We were looking for an older dog, maybe 1-2 years old - you know, avoid all that annoying “puppy” stuff. As we walked through the kennels, I was weeding out all the “not according to PLAN pups” - too young, too old, wrong breed… and then Alan saw you.

Your card said you were 6 months old (but they left out the part that you were the best good girl, because no one knew that yet)... so I kept walking. She’s too young. She’s not what we’re looking for. Let’s keep walking. I didn’t want to make another snap decision - and remember: we had a PLAN, right?

When we finished the circle of kennels, none of the pups had fit the PLAN - and I remember my heart feeling both sad and slightly relieved. Alan encouraged us to come back to you, Zo, and meet you officially. Of course you remember - we went into the yard, and our first instinct was to drop to the ground to get closer to you. You immediately crammed yourself in as close as you could to us and flipped onto your back. Your joyful zooming around the yard and your soft, sweet eyes helped us see that our PLAN didn’t actually mean… anything.

To quote Dug: You were our dog, and we were your masters.

As we signed the paperwork, we looked at each other. This was a big commitment. What if you got sick? What if you needed something? We were signing up for all of it, forever.

Your name from the shelter was Daisy, but we knew that wasn’t right. We had to wait a day or two for you to get your chip and final vaccines, so of course we spent those hours apart poring over name lists - saying names out loud, making lists, circling the favorites. It took awhile to get to the Zs, sweet one, but of course we found the right name for you.

Z, you taught me so much. Watching you run your heart out, helping you have the best and most joyous days, seeing you worn out in the evenings - made my heart so full and happy. We hiked, we explored, we swam, we biked, we rollerbladed… god, thinking how fast we went around Tempe Town Lake makes my 35 year old self a little nervous. We went how fast?? With no pads or helmet?? Eeesh. I guess my 27 year old self was a bit fearless, eh?

As it turned out, you were our dog… but you were my special girl. I still remember the camping trip that turned you into a “cuddle under the covers” dog. We went up to Sedona in the fall, and YIKES it was getting cold up there. The guys decided to stay up for a bit to talk around the campfire, but I was done and ready for bed. You followed me into the tent, but declined my initial offer of getting into the zipped-together sleeping bags. “Nah mom, I’ll sleep next to you on the edge of the tent.” I shrugged and went to bed… to be woken up by you absolutely CANNONBALLING me to say I’M FREAKING COLD LET ME IN.

Ever after, it didn’t matter the season - you were under the covers with me, on my side, by my knees. Phoenix summers, winters, you didn’t care. We figured out that this was the best, because in the mornings when we woke up - you could wiggle up to pillow level and cuddle with me until it was time to get up for real.

And Zo, I made sure to tell you this often, but let me say it again. I’ve been an animal lover my entire life. All our households had dogs and cats, and I grew up with a deep and abiding love for creatures. But until I met you, I never met a pet who wanted to be cuddled as much as I wanted to cuddle. Don’t get me wrong - I’m not Darla with her fish - but if the pup or cat was done, he or she would walk away and I would... pine a bit. Welcoming you into our family was a revelation. It was like you couldn’t get enough of my pets, and I couldn’t get enough of giving them to you. It was a serendipitous, kismet connection - and I relished every minute of it. Thank you for all the love - and showing me every way you could.

My parents’ dogs taught you how to swim, and Charlie tapped into your inner crazy and taught you how to dive. We found you a dog park with a lake and dock, and spent hours taking you there to just marvel at your athleticism as you dove again and again and again. You were a water dog, and it didn’t matter if that water was a lake, a pond, or a freaking tub under a spigot. YOU. WERE. THERE. FOR. IT.

You were there when I miscarried later that first year. You always knew when I was sad - we joked that you were our “emotional support dog”. My heart was broken, and you helped me heal. We went outside into the sun together and helped rebuild my strength on walks and eventually hikes.

You were there when I took that stunning positive pregnancy test in the early morning hours the following summer. We danced together in the bathroom and hatched a plan on how to share the news with Alan. I even drew a picture of you for the poem I wrote for him - do you remember?

You cuddled my belly as I grew (and grew and grew - wow), and you were patient as we ended up in the hospital way longer than we ever imagined for the birth… and you welcomed our sweet James into our family.

With infinite patience, you moved with us to Colorado and back into an apartment so we could choose where to raise our family. We found new parks - and we were blown away by the beauty and wonder (and WATER) of the dog park at Cherry Creek State Park. This was a favorite place to take you and James as he started walking. We could stretch out over 88 acres, and of course - we could throw sticks and pebbles into the water to let you dive and play (and weird out the other park goers).

When Thomas joined our family, we brought him home to you, and you probably thought “Really guys?!”... but shortly after, we were able to purchase our first house. With a yard! Seeing you get to stretch out and lay in the sunshine was such a beautiful moment for my heart.

Thank you for your patience. It took me a long time to find myself again after Thomas was born. Juggling two kids. Work. All the things. We didn’t really go on walks or explorations any more - but you did keep us incredibly safe from squirrels and rabbits. The cuddles continued, of course.

On Halloween of 2017, you tore one of your hind leg ligaments. In January of 2018, you tore both hind leg ligaments. Due to your age and the degree of the injury, we decided to limit your activity and help you heal without surgery… but so much changed for you, my sweet athletic girl.

Today, I doubt myself. Could I have done more? Different? Better? But I am trying to be kind to myself as well, because I know we made the best decisions we could for you at the time. Your recovery was slow, and even on your good days you were slower and stiff… but you were still you. Soft and sweet and smart and my best good girl.

I can’t believe how fast our 3,130 days went. Some of the days felt impossibly long. Some of the days were boring. Sometimes I worried that we weren’t enough for you. But then I remember the amazing, wonderful, beautiful life we had together. The friends you helped us make. The adventures we had. And the fact that while the types of adventures changed over the years, that didn’t make them lesser.

When we knew you would have to cross the bridge, we had one more week together. I tell you, my girl - I don’t think I’ve had a harder week in my life. Knowing what would have to come - and hating every moment of that realization. But also being thankful for the gift of time. To say goodbye, and to help us make some final memories.

I grilled us steaks. You got all of the treats. I couldn’t figure out how to make images for us in those last days through my grief, so I reached out to my dear friend Lindsey. We were lucky enough to have her come over and SEE us together. I can never ever thank her enough for making time for us, and making images that truly move me. (Please check out Lindsey’s incredible work.)

We had an incredible 60 degree day that January Wednesday, and we soaked in the sunshine at your favorite place. You ran your heart out. We explored, and took all the trails. I brought my waders so we could cross the streams together (why didn’t I do that ages ago???). I threw about 537 rocks for you, which of course wasn’t enough… and I was lucky enough to capture just a little bit of your magic with my camera.

I miss you. I think I always will - no matter what other pets we might be lucky enough to love. You were my best good girl, my best friend for so long. You made the joyous parts of life higher, and you helped ease the low parts. You literally changed the curves of my life - lifting them all higher. Our memories give me joy, and I will always remember you… and strive to be as good of a human as you thought I was.

Thank you for the privilege of being your human, sweet girl. Save a spot for me, okay?

Do you have a pet you’d like me to send remembrances to?

Drop their names in the comments - let’s remember our loved ones together. <3