Zoe, the Black Beauty
April 20, 2019 by Furry Tales
Closer to the date of our wedding, we realised that World For All was hosting an Adoptathon. We wondered if there was any way we could quickly go there between functions and come back with a dog. When Paras and I decided to live together, I was sure that I wanted to adopt a dog.
Since there was no way that we could be present at our wedding and go to the event as well (especially since a huge part of next week would be spent away from the city), we sulked. As soon as we returned to Bombay, we were excited to know that World for All was hosting a hangover of the Adoptathon for all the dogs and cats that couldn’t be adopted earlier.
This sounded like it was meant to be and off we went. To be frank, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into and I believe that Paras relied on me to know. All I knew was that I wanted a female dog – one because they are less likely to be adopted and two because I had lived with a female dog before (when my flatmate had one) and I loved her energy.
At the adoption camp, we met all kinds of dogs. Dogs with three legs, some who were being returned for the third time. And a dog named Lizzie. Lizzie’s foster parent told us that she was 3 months old, that she had come to the previous camp but was not adopted because she was all black, that she was docile and hardly barked.
Lizzie was lying on a steel table cuddled up and was shivering a little. Frankly, she looked like a big rat. There was something in her eyes that made me want her. And just like that, the decision was made.
Lizzie traveled with her foster parent and us to her new home. Throughout the car ride, she was fast asleep in Paras’s lap. I was still afraid to pick her up. What if I broke her?
Her foster parent approved our living conditions and deemed it safe for a dog, ignoring the boxes and suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked. There was however one issue. I hated the name, Lizzie. It reminded me of a certain creepy crawly reptile that I hate. But this tiny one had already started responding to it. Hence, we decided to name her something similar – Zoe.
Zoe ate curd rice as her first meal home. But it wasn’t until she jumped for the chicken curry that we were eating, I knew that she was ours and us, hers.
Zoe has been in our lives for 4.5 years now and each moment has been amazing. She is a chilled out dog that loves walks (only if you are going to take her for 45 minutes or more), loves dosas and idlis as much as chicken and eggs, cuddles on the couch and little girls. Zoe absolutely loves attention. She will steal something she knows she is not supposed to, wait for us to discover that she has it and then looks us in the eye while destroying it. She loves destroying socks. If you come to our house, you MUST keep your socks safe.
Zoe knows when we have played with other dogs. When we come home smelling of other dogs, she’ll sniff us everywhere the dog had touched us and then give us a look of disdain. She’s not very easy to please, except if you have good food and Parle G biscuits. Believe it or not, she knows the difference between the rustling noises of different biscuits and will know from any room if you pick up a Parle G biscuit. She also knows the difference between our bike and any other bike turning around the corner.
Zoe loves protecting us! She will give you all the attention you want but you can’t enter a space that is ours. I think she believes that we are her pack. I would like to assume that I am the leader of her pack.
Zoe is not my child. She is not just a dog. Zoe is family.