Saying Goodbye to My Sweet Pup, Zuzu

Yesterday, my family had to say goodbye to our sweet dog, Zuzu.

She would have turned 12 years old next month. She’d been slower and sleepier for some time, as senior dogs tend to do. But the first sign there was something wrong came last week. We came home from a family Fourth of July party and discovered she’d vomited on the rug. Even then, we figured it was a fluke. But the following morning, I found she’d vomited again in my bedroom, where she slept on the floor. Something was wrong. We gave her puréed pumpkin and probiotic chews to settle her stomach. At first, that appeared to help, and she was good for a while, but by Friday night, it was clear she had to go to the vet. I was worried.

On Saturday morning, after doing a short hit on NewsmaxTV, I called the vet as soon as the office opened to get her checked out. She received a shot, and the vet prescribed a special diet. It would be safe to put the cleaned rug back down if she made it through the weekend without vomiting again. The shot helped for a day and a half, and I was hopeful she’d get through it, but the symptoms recurred. I called the vet first thing on Monday, brought her in for tests and an x-ray, and that’s when they found the mass in her abdomen. 

It is an understatement to say I was devastated. We’ve loved this sweet little pup for nearly 12 years. Zuzu was the heart of the family. I couldn’t even imagine her not being with us.

The weird thing is, I didn’t even want a dog at first.

Not long after we bought our first house, my wife had been talking about us getting a dog. I’d never had a dog before. I liked dogs enough when they belonged to other people, but did I really want one and all the responsibilities and headaches that come with it? So, the “let’s get a dog” conversation was one I generally put off any way that I could. I can’t remember all the excuses I gave, but eventually, it was made very clear that we would get one, and that was that.

She looked online for puppies because she wanted us to get a puppy for our first dog. Eventually, she found a place with a few puppies available–hours away in Ohio. They were beagle-bulldog mixes called Beabulls. We saw some pictures of the available puppies left. I must admit that I wasn’t particularly impressed, except for one puppy. Before long, though, someone else claimed the puppy I was moderately interested in. But we were still going to get one from what was left. 

So, on Nov. 22, 2011, I left work early to get a puppy I didn’t particularly want. I was in a rather sour mood about the whole thing, and it rained heavily through much of the drive.

When we finally found the place, I can still remember entering the barn and seeing the remaining puppies on the floor. And this adorable little brindle puppy with white marks came to me. I picked her up and knew this was Zuzu — the name my wife had already picked out (in reference to the character in It’s A Wonderful Life.) And, as if a switch had been flipped, I instantly fell in love with this puppy. There was no debate; this was the one we’d take home. She chose us. I knew she did. And I was incredibly grateful my wife wanted us to get a puppy. Zuzu was exactly what we needed.

The hour’s ride home was torturous. And we barely got to spend time with Zuzu when we got home because it was nearly 1 a.m., and we both had to go to work the following day. 

I worked in an office for years, and it used to really irk me thinking of Zuzu being home alone for so many hours. When I was let go and started writing for PJ Media, knowing I’d be home with her was my favorite part. Working from home is incredibly isolating, especially when you’ve been used to working in an office with people, but you’re never alone when working from home when you have a dog in the house.

Sure, she slept a lot, and often she would get annoying if she really wanted treats, but I was always grateful to not be truly alone at the house while I worked and to know that she knew she wasn’t alone either. She’d spend every night in our bedroom, typically on the floor on my side of the bed. In fact, it’s become a habit to check the floor before setting my feet down when I wake up to ensure I’d not disturb her. She was part of my routine.

When things weren’t looking good, but there was still hope, it was still hard not to worry about the worst. For several days, I’ve done the bulk of my writing downstairs on the couch with my iPad in order to be with her as much as possible. And she’d look at me from her bed and either move to sit by my legs or even get on the couch to curl up next to me. I swear Zuzu knew how upset I was, and she was trying to comfort me. My son has never known life without her, and telling him that Zuzu would have surgery and that the problem might not be fixable was one of the hardest conversations ever.

An ultrasound could not determine if the mass in her abdomen was connected to the spleen or the pancreas — the latter being untreatable. Only exploratory surgery would tell us. On Tuesday, the night before her surgery, we let Zuzu sleep on our bed. She always wanted to sleep on the bed with us, and we only occasionally let her. We didn’t know then if it would be the last time or not.

Dropping her off for the surgery was difficult. Finding out the mass was inoperable because it was connected to the pancreas was heartbreaking. Saying goodbye to her was devastating.

They brought her into the room, still under the effects of sedation, and we all got to hug and kiss her and tell her how much we’d miss her. I’ll even miss the times she’d wake me up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom outside. Sure, I’d be exhausted the next day, but sometimes, after she came back inside, I’d crash on the couch, and she’d jump up and sleep at my feet. 

The past week has been rough, and the past day has been almost unbearable. I still find myself looking at her dog bed in the living room, thinking she’ll be there, and the emptiness in that spot kills me. And now, I’ll be working in my house, truly alone, knowing that I won’t ever hear the pitter-patter of her paws or the clinking noise her collar made when she was walking around or see her tail wag when I come home again. 

For all the excuses I made for not wanting a dog before we got Zuzu, the truth is, my biggest fear about having a dog was knowing how that one day we’d have to say goodbye. I knew it would be difficult, and yet it’s so much harder than I expected. I know she’s in a better place and is no longer suffering, and I try to take comfort in that.

She hadn’t been able to keep food down for days and hadn’t even tried eating over the last two. She’d lost quite a bit of weight and was not herself. Yet she was perhaps the bravest of all of us, using the energy she had to comfort us in her final days. I did my best to return the favor, putting my arm around her and telling her how much I loved her as she took her final breaths.

Zuzu was our first pet together — the first life my wife and I were responsible for after getting married. She was my son’s fur sister and best friend. She was my sweet pup and my work buddy. She was the best dog in the world as far as I’m concerned. She could make any moment happier with her sweet little face.

Today, I’ll put the cleaned rug back down in the living room, and one day, I won’t instinctually check the floor on my side of the bed when I wake up in the morning to avoid waking her up. Life will continue, but with a massive void due to her absence. We’ll get another dog one day, but Zuzu will always be my first pup. She will be missed forever and irreplaceable.