Remembering Zoe

This post will be a remembrance of Zoe Pinot Grigio Waters, my obese, dappled miniature dachschund.

Three years ago in November, Zoe was born.  I had been wanting a little wiener dog for a long long time.  And one Christmas, some family was in town.  They had a tiny, tiny, tiny little spotted grey wiener dog.  She could fit into my hand.  She had blue eyes and was teeny.  I loved her right away.  And I begged my mom to talk with my family about having her.

That Christmas, Zoe was a part of our family.  And she fit in beautifully.

Zoe was never sad.  Her tail was always, always wagging.  Her ears sometimes turned inside out, but that made her cuter.  Zoe smiled a lot.  She would like to snore a little bit when she sleeped.  She also liked to sleep on top of you, in your lap, up against you, nearly pushing you off the bed.

Zoe loved to eat.  She loved to eat.  Zoe really enjoyed eating.  Anything.  And everything.  She ate a lot of chocolate and we called her "bad dog."  She ate our leftovers and we called her "fat."  She hopped up onto the dinner table and began licking anything on the plates and we'd say "Zooooeee..."  

And she would wag her tail.

Zoe loved going on walks with her sister, Lucy.  My mom would take them on walks, and as soon as they saw the leashes, they would start yapping and getting excited until they would shake.  Zoe loved walks.  Even though her two-inch-long legs couldn't make her go terribly fast, she was still faster and stronger than you.  And fatter.

Zoe loved going on adventures outside.  This was always a little bit frightening, because she was quick and short and not easy to see.  But she always came back home or grew too tired that we'd be able to catch her.  She loved feeling free from the house.  She loved sniffing everywhere and eating gross things.  But she escaped too much.

Tonight, she escaped for one last time, doing what she loved the best--running around, exploring.  I'm sad to say that there was a car in her path tonight and she didn't make it back home.

Zoe, I'll miss you.  I love you.  You are the best weiner dog in the world.  So happy and care-free.  We could all learn from you.

Rest in Peace, Zoe.  I wish you were still here.  I love you.