Ann and Zollie

On Tuesday, we lost internet for the entire day, so I just took the day off the computer.

Well, that was part of the reason. The other part was that on Monday it rained all day, so Ann, the dogs, and I enjoyed some quiet time listening to the rain. It was a good day to decompress.

However, our 13-year-old elderly dog Zollie did not enjoy it quite as much. He struggled on and off most of the day, coughing and spitting up some phlegm. Despite his medication, his failing heart seemed to be failing a little more than usual. Eventually, we went to the animal hospital, hoping that whatever Zollie was fighting was something that could be cleared up, but it was not to be. While his will and attitude were very much intact, his body was failing him. He had life left in him, but he’d be in pain and uncomfortable. So, we held him as he was put to sleep…

In 2010, before I entered Ann’s life, she was living in Omaha and on her own after her ex bf chose to date their babysitter (awkward). Between her already existing PTSD and that tumultuous event, she decided to get a PTSD service dog.

She had always been a big-dog type of girl, but her lingering injuries meant she could only handle a small dog. After searching, she found herself at a Humane Society kennel where she spotted a tiny dog with a big attitude, a foo-foo shitzu-pomeranian mix, exactly the kind of dog she never thought she’d own. The precocious little pup was keeping the rest of the other dogs in the kennel under control and at bay. She liked his toughness and confident attitude, so she took him home.

Zollie at Four Corners. He was always patient with his Momma’s photography.

Her new dog’s role was to help calm her when she she felt her anxieties building. So, she named him after a drug with a similar purpose: Zoloft; but altered it slightly to Zollie.

When I entered the picture in 2011, Zollie was already a well-trained and well-behaved little dog. He could sit through a movie at a movie theatre without making a peep. He could fetch her inhaler on command. If you made the whistle sound of a bomb falling he would duck under the nearest chair (one of Ann’s favorite tricks and a reflection of her sometimes-sick humor). He was so well mannered that you could put him in the front yard and he wouldn’t wander away, even if dogs walked past the yard. He travelled well and rarely complained.

Zollie, Ann and I going camping in 2014. He really didn’t like camping (dirt, fires, slick camper floors …)

I wasn’t all that interested in having a dog when I met Ann. And, she warned me that Zollie hadn’t liked her last boyfriend. So, I think we were both surprised when Zollie and I bonded right away. Though he could be a little jealous when Ann and I kissed, he seemed very supportive of our relationship.

Zollie was a “pretty” dog, often mistaken for a female. The natural shape of his mouth always made it seemed like he was smiling whenever he opened it. He also had a very precise sense of time [by the end of his life, he seemed to know exactly when 6am (food and meds), 2pm (meds), 5pm (dinner), and 8pm (meds) was and he kept us on track by sitting in the kitchen and grunting when it was those times].

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