Zim
We got her from the pound. She had big brown eyes and a huge bushy tail. She was beautiful and smart. I took her out for a walk in the parking lot at the pound so we could get to know each other. When I accidently stepped on her foot, she looked up at me probably thinking, "Are you going to be doing this foot stepping thing a lot?" People guessed that maybe she was a collie/German shepherd/chow/huskie mix. She was a mutt but she was the best of all her many breeds. My son named her Zim and we busted her free from death row at the pound.

We took her home and right out to the park where she ran like the wind. But Zim was very sick. She almost starved to death before she got to the pound. Zim should have weighed 70 lbs. but she weighed 40. She had infections and a cold and ear mites and ticks. The vet said she might not make it. I thought that she had to make it because we had fallen in love with her. She had to make it because she had so much spirit and so much courage.

We got her medicine and special food. We gave her lots of water and lots of love. Zim did make it. We had years of walks together and she was always in the middle of our world. When our family talked, she would sit among us and growl and bark. She was joining in the conversation. She would steal my shoes and hide them in the back yard, I think because she was smart enough to know that I put my shoes on before I left the house. I guess she thought that if I didn't have shoes I couldn't leave. Once, I let her water dish run out so she barked at the sink because she knew that's where the water came from.

For many years, Zim made us happy because she was Zim. I would be happy to see her wagging her big bushy tail in the morning. I would be happy to see her when I came home from work. She would be happiest on our long walks at the park. We would sit and watch basketball together and I would look over and she would be staring at me. She adored me and the feeling was mutual. If I got up to go to the other room, she would follow. A day did not go by that our family didn't think about how much we loved her.

Then she got sick. On one of our walks, she had to stop after a just little while and rest. Something was very wrong.

I took her to the vet. Might be valley fever. We had tests done. We got her medicine. I spent $3000 and for a while, I was considering having my direct deposit changed so that my pay check would go right to the vet. But I spent the money with no regrets because we loved her. There were blood tests, shots and an ultra sound that took two men to hold her still. While they pinned her down, she looked over at me as if asking, "Why?" My heart was being slowly broken. I got the results right away. Tumor in her heart. Zim was going to die. Could be one month. Could be four months but she was going to die.

We made her comfortable. The walks became slower and shorter and we stopped to rest often. I kept fans on her and water dishes wherever she lay down. She would fall asleep in the back yard and I would carry her into the cool of the house. I prayed for a miracle. I told God that my faith was strong and I would not doubt God's will no matter what happened. Then she started getting better. We said that we wouldn't be tricked. We wouldn't hope because we knew she was dying. But she got better still. In spite of myself, I started to hope because I loved her and I didn't want her to leave me.

Then one July night, she got up and walked with purpose into the back yard. Zim knew. We knew. We followed. Dogs want to die alone, separate from the pack but her pack went with her. We wouldn't let her die alone.

She collapsed on the ground and I put her up on our trampoline to get her away from the ants. We petted her as she died. My sons and I talked to her and told her that we loved her as she closed her eyes and stopped breathing. Then after a few seconds, she shuddered. A friend said later that maybe that shudder was Zim's soul leaving her body. That noble spirit left her body. We cried. I started digging her grave right then. I didn't know what to do. I had to do something. I dug and cried until I was exhausted. Then I could sleep.

I buried her the next morning and I would spend the following nights sitting by her grave and crying. I cried so much that I was afraid I couldn't stop. I thought I was going to cry every day for the rest of my life. The pain wouldn't stop and crying was the only release but it was never a relief.

There were nights that I would wail and yell at God. I would shake my fist at the sky and shout at God, "She was just a dog. She was one thing of beauty in this crappy world. Why the #$%@#$ did you have to take my dog? She was just a dog."
One night I ripped the little wooden cross I wore around my neck and broke it to splinters with a hammer. I was mad at God. God took my dog. It was the biggest crisis of faith in my life.

People would say:
"Oh, you have other pets- that's not so bad."
Or
"Don't be sad."
Or
"She was old anyway."
Or
"She was just a dog."
Or
"You can get another one." (There was no other Zim.)
Or
"She was lucky to have you as an owner." (Not as lucky I was to have her as my dog.)
People can say such stupid things.

I kept waiting for time to heal all wounds. I was one big open wound and as time went by I wasn't healing.

But it helped a little to make her a tombstone. I bought a bag of cement and wrote this in the wet cement:
ZIM
She was the greatest dog on earth.
7-6-2008
We love you.

Her existence had to be honored

Then I stopped going to her grave and yelling profanities at God. I still thought of Zim every day. I talked to people who had loved and lost animals. We talked about them and cried together and that helped. People love their animals and you have to love people for that. There will always be an empty space when I walk in the door. It makes me sad that nobody hides my shoes anymore. That bright star shining out in a dreary sky has stopped shining. I still don't know why my dog died. If there was a plan it was a stupid one.

Sometimes I still go to where I buried Zim. It feels good to sit there and tell her that I love her and cry. But it's ok to still cry because I did love her. Now I am more human. Now I feel more and I am thankful that I had the honor of having Zim in my life.

Months later, I was reading a book written by a wise woman. A realization came to me about Zim. When I met her, a new type of love was born into my life. Because of her I felt a simple, pure and unconditional love that I had never felt before. She couldn't stay. We had to be separated eventually. We were separated years too soon if had been up to me but it wasn't up to me. I was separated from Zim but that love she brought into my life is with me forever. She gave me that gift.

The same night that Zim died we got a kitten that we had been waiting on until it got old enough to leave its mother. One night, I was sitting on my bed and this tiny cat came up to me and put one paw then the other paw on my leg. Then he laid his little head down on his paws. I thought, "Oh no. Here we go again." Years from now I'll be crying all over again but it doesn't matter- we love our animals.

Their lives are temporary but the love they give us stays forever.