I have been an animal lover my whole life, and ever since I was a little kid I wanted a dog. When my mom mentioned the idea of getting a puppy on vacation once, I knew I could not let this opportunity escape me. For days and weeks, I would not let it go. I was persistent, stubborn, and convincing. I was not going to give up. After several discussions and lots of research, my mom, worn down and on board, reached out to a Maltese breeder who was recommended to us. A few weeks later, she called to let us know she had a new litter, and there was a very tiny, perfect little girl that had our name on it. When the breeder sent a photo, the puppy’s brother was pictured next to her biting her ear. The choice was clear; we were getting both Zoey and Zeke.
They arrived on a sunny day in early June 2007, only weighing a pound or so each, and from that day on, life would never be the same. For every birthday, family pool party, injury, celebration, and loss, Zeke and Zoey were there. Never a haircut and always with a hair accessory, the twin Z’s were inseparable. Zoey, graceful and beautiful, was sweet and obedient while her brother Zeke with his goofy toothy grin was rambunctious and playful. They were two sides of the same coin, and they always had each other’s back. Zoey, barely six pounds fully grown, would often protect Zeke who got too scared around big dogs.
They were my mother’s pride, and she groomed them herself daily. They made special appearances at the high school fashion show accompanying models, and when I was asked in an assignment in middle school to write to the company that makes your favorite product, I wrote to the breeder. There was never a day, no matter how stressful, that you couldn’t come home and immediately feel better by being greeted by our in-home-welcoming committee led by Zeke with his uniquely warm welcome, somewhere between a howl and a yodel.
I loved both of them more than anything I have ever before, but something about Zoey really made my heart sing. She was my baby, and our bond was special. No matter where I was in the room, if I layed down nearby and put my arm out, she would sit in the curve between my hand and my chest. As I grew up, and moved to New York, I would often come home for the weekend just to see them. After graduating and working in the demanding film industry, I couldn’t help but selfishly admit that I was secretly relieved when the pandemic allowed me to come home and be back with my puppies every day. It was an invaluable time that I still look back on and appreciate. Even at thirteen, Zeke and Zoey still seemed to be the same as the day we got them.
One morning at home, I heard my dad take the dogs out in the morning as he often does from my bedroom window. Something happened, and I couldn’t quite make out what. I ran downstairs to find Zoey collapsed. Without a second of hesitation, my mom, brother, and I ran her to the emergency vet. Zoey always had a heart condition, but nothing was of concern until now. We were told her heart condition had gotten worse and one ventricle had grown so large in her tiny heart, that it ruptured. They said it was time but I refused to let her go. As difficult as it was to hear, I refused to believe it. Zoey was always so strong. She could do anything. She was walking less than a week after knee surgery. They agreed to let her go home but said it was only a matter of days.
For days, she didn’t leave my side. Other than when she was asleep (even though I would check on her through the night), I was with her. I carried her everywhere and fed her by hand. My mom and I would push her in a stroller as Zeke walked by her side. Three days later, the vet called. There had been a mistake. Zoey still had severe heart disease, but the scan was read incorrectly since her heart was so small. What appeared like a rupture was a tear that mended itself on its own. Zoey’s body had beat all the odds.
I don’t know how, but she mustered the strength once last time to sit up and give me a kiss, maybe to let me know she was going to be ok.
This was the best news, but also meant we were on borrowed time. There was not a moment that was spent without the best care from a team of specialists as well as all the love we could give her. Even when I went back to work in New York, I would drive home nearly every weekend to see her. After ten months, and every single option exhausted, Zoey let us know it was time. She had grown very weak and wasn’t giving me the many kisses she once did. She collapsed, and this time wasn’t going to make it. After all the many times in my life Zoey brought me comfort, I knew I had to repay her by holding her closely as she drifted to heaven. I don’t know how, but she mustered the strength one last time to sit up and give me a kiss, maybe to let me know she was going to be ok. Zeke was by her side, as he always was.
Devastation doesn’t even begin to explain the pain I felt. For a week I couldn’t sleep or eat. I took work off, unable to focus or stop crying. Zoey was my baby, and I really believed she was going to live forever. I couldn’t help but cry thinking about Zeke who had never been alone, how lost he must have felt. For weeks to come, I couldn’t even mention Zoey without falling apart. I also could not stop thinking about that final moment with her. People say animals have incredible intuition. Zoey knew I needed that, and I carried that memory with me everywhere.
And most of all, could we go through another lifetime of dogs?
As life went on, the hole in my family did not heal. Zoey was irreplaceable. The joy had left the home. My mom, worried about Zeke and also out of an abundance of curiosity, started exploring other Maltese breeders. She even reconnected with Zeke and Zoey’s. She happened upon a sought after breeder in Connecticut who was so moved by my family’s story. She was touched by our deep level of care, dedication, and most of all love. She shared with us that she actually just had a litter of puppies- two girls and a boy- who happened to be born the day Zoey left us. My mom believed this was a sign. There was something cosmic. She ran the idea by us, and feeling down, we agreed to visit. After meeting the puppies, we had to start seriously considering next steps. How would Zeke feel? Could we do it? And most of all, could we go through another lifetime of dogs?
My mom and I have always been the most similar of all of our family members. We feel very deeply and wear our hearts on our sleeves. With gravel in her voice, she called and talked to me about what we should do. Choking back tears, I said, “there is nothing more painful than losing a dog, but the joy and all the years of memories make it worth it. Can you handle that?” A few months later, I drove up from New York to meet my mom, my sister, and my brother in Connecticut for pickup day. I was still plagued with grief and in the drive over kept thinking about Zoey and that final kiss.
The breeder met us outside with the three puppies. Zane was a surefire thing, but we were still left with the choice of who was going to come home and be Izzy. One of the girls was very docile and one was hell on wheels. I leaned over to see them, and Izzy, no doubt, jumped up and gave me a kiss. My heart sank. This was the next sign. Zoey was here. We took the puppies home to meet Zeke and didn’t look back. In a way Zane and Izzy really do make up two sides of Zoey. Zane, smart, photogenic, and full of attitude and Izzy, loving, sweet, and pretty. Even more so, Izzy, from that very first kiss, has been my little shadow, a different but similar bond I shared with Zoey. Sometimes in the right moment, I feel Zoey’s love being passed down through Izzy.
For the next two years the puppies ran around the house, while Zeke slowly sauntered and sat next to my brother in his bed while he worked. Zeke loved Alec almost like Zoey loved me. But, as most boy dogs are, Zeke was a mama’s boy. He was the light of my mom’s life. They would watch TV together, and eat together, and cuddle together in bed. When my mom put on makeup, Zeke would find her, his nails clacking against the tile floor long before she could turn around, usually in the middle of applying mascara. Zeke was an expressive dog, and even as he got older, he would raise his one ear when you looked at him, and if you were lucky, give you his little gap-toothed smile. Zeke didn’t interact with the puppies much. They had a lot of energy for him, but he was intrigued by them, often hitting his paw against their crate.
Even though he was always a picky eater, a few months ago, Zeke decided he didn’t want to eat anymore. Concerned, my mom took him to the vet. Without much thought and having just finished a short term job, I packed up and went home. My sister flew in from Chicago. A day later the pathology report came back, and Zeke had extremely aggressive cancer. With no exact timeline, we held Zeke close, giving him all the love we could. My sister flew back to Chicago a few days later to go back to grad school. She cried when she left for the airport. There was no way to know what the next few days, weeks, or months looked like.
I stayed with my parents and my brother, and together we took care of Zeke and the puppies. I was on feeding patrol, and would feed Zeke anything he wanted. As long as he was eating, he was feeling ok. For just under three months, we provided the best care. Zeke visited the vet regularly, and there was not a moment he was alone. He still sat and worked with Alec and cuddled with my mom each night. At the time, it was hard to tell, but Zeke was slowly slipping away. He stayed with us for mine, my brother’s, and my dad’s birthdays. He stayed with us as long as he could. And when he let us know it was time, my mom and I brought him to the vet. The entire staff was in tears when we arrived. Zeke was so loved. He was a dog like no other, a little person. With his signature blue striped bow, my mom held and kissed him. I couldn't help but think back to two years earlier when I held Zoey in the same way. I never thought twice about moving back. Zeke needed all the love and care he had given me. I owed him everything. Wrapped in his favorite blanket, Zeke said goodbye.
For weeks to come, we as a family felt lost. This was different then losing Zoey. This was the end of a chapter. It was also somehow slower even though it was less time. With Zoey, we lived with the anxiety that her condition might turn at any moment. Zeke was gradual. In fact, the vet shared that with Zeke’s prognosis, it was unheard of for him to live as long as he did. She said it was a testament to our love for Zeke.
Even through all the pain and loss, I wouldn’t change a thing. Time with a pet, or as my family says, a sibling, is so precious. I cherish every moment I had with Zeke and Zoey. It gives me solace to know they are back together again, Zeke driving Zoey crazy, probably biting her ear.
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