Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

On December 11th of this year, I lost one of my best friends. My dear sweet companion Zipper crossed over the rainbow bridge while I held him in my arms. I had a connection with that dog that I have never had with another dog. I often hear people say that one certain dog they have owned is their heart dog. I have never really thought that way before, because all my animals are special and each one has a special place in my heart. Each time I lose one, I feel like a small piece of my heart is missing. But Zipper was different. I like to think of him as my soul dog. We connected in a way that almost made us feel as one.

I met Zipper several years ago; I believe he was about 5 years old when I met him. I was extremely interested in herding sheep and the dog I had was not interested in herding at all. That dog, an Australian Shepherd, is beautiful—and he knows it. He would just prance around the sheep with his nose in the air as if to say, Look at me! Aren’t I beautiful?

Needless to say, that is not what makes a good herding dog, so I was pretty disappointed. The woman I was taking lessons from had several dogs at the time, and told me she had a dog she would let me use if he would work for me. That dog was Zipper.

As soon as I saw him it was love at first sight. He was a tricolored Border Collie with the most beautiful golden eyes I’d ever seen—eyes that seemed to see right into my soul. I told my instructor that I loved his beautiful eyes, and she said his eyes creeped her out; she didn’t like light eyes in a border collie. I think she might not have liked his eyes because she didn’t want anyone or anything looking into her soul.

She told me Zipper was easily freaked out and that he might be too scared to work for me. She had not been very successful in getting him to work for her. She had actually considered euthanizing him because she thought he was unstable. Instead, she decided to have him neutered to see if that would help calm him down. But he just paced back and forth and was not very social. He wouldn’t walk on a leash without pulling, wouldn’t take a treat, and didn’t like to be petted, although he would stand for brushing. He really just wanted to be left alone. She wasn’t sure he would ever be able to live inside because so many things really spooked him.

So I started hanging out with this dog. I sat with him while other people worked their dogs. I gently massaged him as he stood or sat beside me. I would go over and brush him and walk him. I would throw him a treat before I left. Eventually, we decided I should take him for a few home visits. I was excited but also nervous. The first time I brought him home, I walked him up to the front door on a leash and walked inside, and he walked right in. I kept him with me for a few hours, then took him back home. The next time I picked him up for a visit, he stayed with me until he took his last breath. Zipper allowed me to love him, and I am forever grateful that this beautiful creature welcomed me into his life.

I really don’t know why he picked me, but I am so happy that he did. He let me love him, and in return he loved me back with his whole being. Zipper was an amazing herding dog. He was so talented and often took advantage of his novice handler—me. He was head and shoulders above me in talent, and he knew it. I would be in the wrong place and he would just run through the sheep because he could, and I would just smile. I loved that he was having so much fun and I loved that he was getting to do what he was born to do. I should have corrected him much more than I did, but when we were with the sheep and he looked at me, I swear he was smiling. I miss him so much. I have had such a hard time writing this because of my tears.

We were two misfits—two soulmates—misunderstood, but good as gold. We understood each other; we connected. We both needed love and we both just needed to be understood. He needed calm, patience, kindness, and support. I needed him to heal all the brokenness that was and is my life.  We healed each other with the love we shared.

I feel truly grateful and honored that I got to hold him in my arms as he took his last breath. I told him, It’s okay, Zip. I have you. That’ll do.