Zoey: Running Free

A little while ago, our lovely Zoey departed this world.  She was in her nineties in doggy years but she never seemed to age.  Even two days before she passed away, she had gone for a walk with Jane and Paul to look at an apartment just down the road.  A trooper to the last.

Zoey was a black Labrador Retriever/German Shepherd mix with a droopy right ear and a brilliant white spot on her chest.  Sarah and Jane adopted her from the Lab Rescue League in 2003.  They said they were attracted to Zoey because of her "calm temperament".  Kids were patting her and climbing all over her but she seemed to be completely unfazed.

Even though they had only gone to the Lab Rescue League to "look", they made a quick decision to adopt her there and then before somebody else worked out just how lovable she was.  Of course, it was Zoey who actually adopted them.  As soon as they took her outside, she leapt into the back of the car and settled down as if to the manor born.

Just how Zoey managed to persuade the Lab Rescue League to take her in remains a mystery.  She looked nothing like a black Labrador--except she was glossy black.  However, as Sarah and Jane soon found out, Zoey could be very "persuasive" (read authoritarian) in all matters.

On her first night at Jane's home in Glover Park, D.C., she slept downstairs.  On the second night, she decided that she should sleep upstairs like everybody else--and did so for evermore.  She also decided that while everybody was out during the day, she would sleep on Jane's bed under the covers.  She always got up before anybody came home but she forgot that black hair on white sheets was a dead giveaway of her activity (non-activity?) during the day.

She also "persuaded" you that it was definitely time for a walk, that it was way past her breakfast or dinner time and, most certainly, that it was always time for a bone.  In my case, it was time for two bones.  As Sarah once remarked, Zoey had worked out that I was the "weak link" and could not resist her big brown begging eyes.  She could make you believe that she had not been fed for weeks.

Basically, she ran the house and her life as she deemed most beneficial for her.  Any dog owner knows this to be a fundamental truth: you exist for their comfort and pleasure.

The Lab Rescue League said she was 2 years-old.  She was probably a bit older because she was quite set in her ways--bossy, entitled and independent.  They told Jane and Sarah that her name was "Daisy".  That sounded a bit flowery and, as they soon learned, she was no wilting violet.  She became Zoey after a while because she was so full of LIFE!

We don't know who owned her before us but we had our theories.  Whenever she heard children, her ears would prick up and she would wag her tail.  So, we surmised that she had been brought up in a family with small children.  She also loved the sun so we imagined that she was from Florida and that at some point she just became too large to stay with an expanding family.

Zoey's passion for water of any type (dirty, clean, chlorinated, a trickle or a raging flood) was obviously part of her Lab heritage (more on that later).  However,  her propensity to defend the house against the mailman, the UPS guy or other intruders absolutely had something to do with her German Shepherd background.

According to Reed, Jane's mailman, Zoey once "made contact" with him.  To avoid a law suit, Jane had to give him hush money in the form of a large Christmas bonus each year thereafter.  Reed obviously appreciated this act of contrition because he sent Zoey postcards when he was on vacation; and a condolence card when she passed away.

She also took exception to being woken up at 2 a.m. by Jane's (inebriated) tenant knocking loudly on the door because he had lost his key.  When Jane opened the door, Zoey stood there with the hair on her back raised and emitting a deep growl with an accompanying flash of incisors.  Said tenant sobered up pretty quickly; but Zoey had firmly established her German Shepherd guard dog credentials.

Those credentials were also on display when confronted by a pushy male dog or any form of canine aggression.   Zoey would bare her teeth and let out a deep rumbling growl which usually sent the offenders flying or reduced them to whimpering and cowering.  In truth, she was really part wolf and part feminist!

Apart from her love of water and children, she also loved to sit outside for hours on end.  She could be found on Jane's stoop at just about any time of the day or evening.  Kids from all over the street would come and sit with her, the big ginger cat, Banjo, from over the road sat with her and, in her later years, squirrels could walk past without fear of a Panzer attack.

I swear that dog was just contemplating Nature--enjoying whatever weather was out there (heat, snow, rain, gales, thunder and lightning)--while watching the comings and goings of the always fascinating human population.  She was happiest when sitting on some prized plant or making a temporary bed (read large hole) under an azalea or rose bush.

She was very obedient when it suited her.  However, if you left food out, she considered that fair game.  She once ate a whole roasted chicken that was in a Whole Foods plastic container.  We never found the plastic container.  We called the vet and she cooly stated that: "She will be fine--but it will all come out in the next few days!" So true.  When she was staying with me on one occasion, she polished off a huge meat and eggplant frittata that Regee had made and left to to cool on the counter.  Regee has never recovered from the shock!

Unlike our former black Lab, Zak, she showed absolutely no remorse after she had done something really bad.  Zak at least had the decency to cower under the table. On the contrary, Zoey thought she had pulled off the perfect crime.  No evidence was left in the case of the roast chicken/plastic container and a spotlessly clean, unbroken china plate was found on the floor after the frittata incident.  How could that be her?  She was a pro!  She could have taught Zak a lot.

Out in the woods or along the canal,  Zoey became something quite different.  If you have ever seen that film "Last of the Mohicans," she could tear through the trees and foliage and up hills and down dales with the same alacrity and grace as Daniel Day-Lewis and his Mohican cohorts.  When Paul first saw her running in the woods near our old house in McLean, he said: "Dad, that dog's a wolf!"

On another occasion, I was walking along the C&O Canal with Herbert Morais and Bill Onorato.  Zoey had been loping along behind us sniffing around and looking generally bored.  A little while later, Herbert suddenly said: "Ian, is that your dog over there?" Sure enough, without our knowledge, she must have plunged into the canal, swum across to the other side and was now high up on the opposite embankment hurtling through the trees in pursuit of some random squirrel or terrified deer.  Wolf, indeed.

I think I will always remember her by this photo.  Sarah was house sitting for some friends in McLean.  We had only had her for a couple of weeks and really didn't know her too well.  The house had a swimming pool.  It was clear that Zoey had never seen or been in water before--let alone a swimming pool.  She skirted around the pool very suspiciously, sniffed the alien liquid and looked quite bemused.

But then she suddenly decided that water was a good thing--even chlorinated swimming pool water.  She confidently walked down the steps into the swimming pool and that was her first swim, to our knowledge.  She stayed in there for quite a while and then came out to dry off.  She climbed straight up onto the beach chair and sat in the sun in great style to dry out.  She was a real princess, in addition to her many other attributes.

As we later learned, once she was in water, she would never come out!  How many times did we stand there calling her name, tempting her with biscuits or pretending to go home.  She would not budge.  Once she found her way to water, she knew that she was a real, card carrying black Labrador Retriever and that water was her true destiny.  She was the only dog I know who swam underwater.  She would dive below the water and then pop up further down the river, streaming water and wondering why we were not plunging in after her.  Crazy dog.

When the little 2 year-old boy from up the street came to see Zoey a few days after she had passed away, he asked where she was.  Jane told him, as gently as possible, that she had "gone away" for a little while.  The little guy shot back: "Is she dead?"  So much for the innocence of children.

She may have "gone away" but she will always be with us--just like her much beloved predecessor, Zak.  Zoey was a constant welcoming presence and brought us endless joy and many laughs and stories.  She was a very different spirit--with a life force and character that was deeply doggy but also happily human in so many respects.

Now she is forever running through the woods and waters above the bright blue sky.  Run free, Zoey, run free.