Zoe came to live with us in June, at the start of summer, after her owner passed away suddenly. Her owner was a close friend of my husband, and he didn't want the dog to be further traumatized by a shelter or foster home.
As it turns out, we were only Zoe's foster home.
Already ten years old, little Zoe lived by different rules than our big dogs do. And the big dogs didn't understand why the little one could sleep on the couch but they couldn't. The little one couldn't understand why we didn't put out a box for her to "do her business in" like she'd had in her apartment back in New York. Can you imagine a Saint Bernard using an indoor doggie box?
When she came to us, she was an apartment dog who loved to "visit" the outdoors. Over the summer we visited countless beaches and lakes, took her to Vermont to my sister's farm and swimming hole, and took many long walks around Cape Cod. She got in great physical shape and was able to keep up with the big dogs, but still craved more attention than we were able to provide with our busy lives.
Another friend who volunteers at the shelter ran into the woman and Zoe on Saturday and she said they both seemed "smitten" with each other. That was great to hear, for as much as the little dog was difficult at times, I still missed her when she was gone.
This week marked our friend's birthday, as Facebook reminded everyone. He would have been 49. I was the one who received a huge vase of flowers on his birthday - with a card that reads: "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you for a match made in heaven!"