This morning, with a heavy heart but enlightened soul, I helped my beloved Zac to pass on. He’s been with me for 15.5 years. He was a skinny, one-ear flipped, anti-cruelty social find. I originally adopted him to keep Calvin company. He was a perfect companion who kept pace with him physically and accompanied him on escapades (such as the discovery of freshly delivered baguettes that were left behind at the door of the restaurant party). He took a back seat and was satisfied.
Years after I adopted him, people asked when did you get him, as if he had been newly adopted. He was glad to just be there and let Calvin be in the spotlight. He liked every creature except for two neighbors. The ambassador, as I sometimes called him, was a spirit of peace but did not want to back down when necessary.
His nose was multifunctional. He dug a dead frozen bird out of a huge pile of snow on the terrace and immediately brought it to the couch. Eeeeeewwwwww! He also seemed to examine everything and touch it with his nose. He often turned on the stereo and bumped into the kitchen garbage. Maybe he had a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder. I’m not sure why he did this, but I’m sure there was a reason.
In addition to his beautiful soul, he was beautiful physically. He looked like a dog. Stand up on ears, a gorgeous black coat and a full feathered tail! People asked what kind of dog he was. A normal American black dog, I replied. Most people replied that they had never heard of this breed.