When I was little I had this tent. A triangular, green one that must have stayed in our backyard for weeks. I also had this kitchen set, which came with a toaster & fake toast, pans, plates, fake vegetables, the whole shebang. I spent whole days in that tent playing.
My dog, a gorgeous German Shepherd called Zac used to get sick of being left out of the game, having to be where everyone else was. That dog came in the tent and sat there for hours on end, patiently being fed fake toast and made to enact stories. A breed that’s trained to kill, sent into war zones etc laying quietly in a tent and listening to me talk. Later, I decided to grow flowers & made little snowpea pots. I lavished so much attention on those flowers my dog got jealous and smashed them. When I was a little older, he ran onto the road & was hit by a car. Every other car on the road stopped bar one speeding woman. If I ever meet that woman again I’ll punch her in the face. Zac started crying and both my mom & I started running for him. I got stopped before I reached him but I’ll never forget when my parents brought him to school the next day after he came home from the vets. His eyes were filled with blood, he had cuts & bruises everywhere, but he jumped up and wagged like nothing had ever happened. Later he chased Mick & I along the tiles, forgot to brake & hit the wall. He was present at every Christmas, knew every time I was crying & spent so many hours alone with me in my Dad’s workshop.
He passed away on Monday at 15 years old. He couldn’t get up & wouldn’t eat. And Zac ate everything. I mean, everything. Chocolate, steaks, bananas, bagels you name it. My brother took him for a walk and Zac couldn’t. I went to my first day of prac and couldn’t shake this feeling, like a presentiment, that it wasn’t going to all end okay. Zac had been ill before, been weak but he’d always gotten better. But something in me knew, the same way something in me knew when my kitten died. So when I came home to find my family sitting in some council of war to tell me Zac had gone it was a confirmation of what I already knew. I was praying on the drive home from prac, praying Zac’d be okay and even as I did I knew he was gone because something didnt feel right. I don’t want to say how much I cried, how much writing this is making me tear up. He was an awesome dog. He didnt need Cesar Milan because he was perfect.
We’re not a family that can live without a dog for very long and the hole that was left was awful. My parents went to see a German Shepherd puppy Thursday and I honestly didn’t think they’d get her. My mom was so low, I thought she’d see them and come back home again, saying they weren’t right, didn’t fit, whatever. I’ve found most breeders don’t produce pedigree Germans either so I expected they’d be crossed with something and Mom’d pick it up. This is the woman who swore over and over to Zac if he didn’t quit attacking her flowers she’d kill him.
So I came home on Thursday expecting nothing. I opened the door to see my Dad holding a beautiful German Shepherd puppy girl. She has a black face and huge paws. Nothing will ever fill Zac’s spot but she’s so quickly carved out her own spot in my heart. Her head is the perfect size for kisses. Little Meg has a bark far too big for her and is already almost perfectly trained. She walks beautifully on the lead, she sits, she knows to go outside, she’s the ‘perfect energy level’ for us (thank you Cesar.)
This morning I was getting ready, finding the conditioner & looked down to see Meg sat in my room watching me. I gave her a pat & went to find my toothbrush. She was there at my side, sat down patiently, looking up at me & the vanity. We just wrapped Father’s Day presents & tired of not getting any attention, she came in and helped. Well, if you can call helping chewing on everything in sight, licking an ugg boot and licking photo frames.
I know this isn’t my usual post about progress on my writing & Black Rose but I needed to share this. A pet holds such a special place in your heart. I had Zac for 15 years and while it’s a silly idea, I had the idea he was immortal. I didn’t think anything would ever happen, especially after he survived an idiotic woman with a car. Meg hasn’t replaced him, if she had I wouldn’t be tearing up writing this. Meg is a whole other spot in my heart but I love her. I love the way a puppy looks at the world. Like everything is amazing & new. I love how she responds to my Cesar Milan commands, well, so far. And not without whingeing. I love how she came running for a hug and cuddled up on my shoulder just now. There’s nothing about her I don’t like. She’s a perfect, gorgeous, amazing dog. They show such beautiful unconditional love that it makes me stop and think. If we started thinking like a dog did, there’d be so much less crap in the world.
