Our aging Boxer, my children’s cherished companion, was nearing the end of her battle with cancer. We had many conversations about her passing, yet my kids remained heartbroken. To help them feel some agency during this tough time, I asked, “Would you like to get a puppy now while she’s still here, right after she’s gone, or wait a bit?” They unanimously chose to get a puppy to help ease the transition. My partner had given a tentative nod to the idea of a new dog. In theory, he was on board: “Sure, that sounds good.” He was aware I was browsing puppy listings online.
A shelter about sixty miles away had some potential pups. So, on a rainy February day, just before the pandemic began, we drove through winding roads to a bright, welcoming facility where we met the puppy we liked. She bounded over to my kids to play. “That’s the one,” I declared. “Her. We don’t need to see any more.”
We brought home a small, all-black German Shepherd mix, and the kids named her Zelda after a video game. I also chose the name Zelda, inspired by the librarian character in The Magicians. It fit perfectly.
My Partner Came Home to Discover Her
We hadn’t really prepped him for this surprise, and I hadn’t called him beforehand, so when my partner returned from work, he walked into a scene of our kids joyfully engaging in a tug-of-war with the new puppy while our Boxer ignored her and our other German Shepherds looked rather forlorn. (Note: in hindsight, I don’t recommend this approach—adopting a dog is a significant commitment, and everyone involved should agree beforehand. But I digress.)
“What did you do?” he exclaimed.
I pulled him aside. “We agreed to let the kids decide how to cope with their grief, and this is their choice. I’m not going to take that away from them.” I crossed my arms and spoke with conviction.
He sighed. “Alright. So, we have a puppy now.”
He wasn’t thrilled about the new addition, who required vaccinations, spaying, toys, and all the essentials that come with a young dog. However, he did acknowledge that she was cute and seemed to get along well with the kids, which was what mattered most.
I’d Never Owned a Dominant Dog…
My big, old German Shepherd is a gentle giant, and our raccoon-German Shepherd mix, who came to us after an unknown past, is a sweet, snuggly companion (though the kids have their reasons for not wanting to cuddle with him). Our Boxer, like most of her breed, was perpetually cheerful.
Then there was the puppy: 100% dominant.
Zelda strutted around as if she owned the place. She barked for attention, barked for food, and frankly, barked whenever it suited her. We knew she wasn’t a purebred Shepherd, but we underestimated her vocal tendencies. The constant barking gave me a headache. My kids adored her.
My partner remained skeptical. He liked her, of course—Zelda was sweet and great with the kids—but he wasn’t entirely convinced she was a good idea. She did help the kids cope when our Boxer passed, but he still had his doubts.
Then Zelda Became a Pandemic Dog
The pandemic hit about two weeks after we brought Zelda home. Suddenly, we were confined to our house, and the dog had our undivided attention. Since my partner took charge of feeding her, she particularly sought his company. Whenever we kept her out of his room during his virtual teaching, she would be ecstatic when he emerged between classes.
Zelda wanted to be by our side constantly, which meant she also wanted to sleep with us. We couldn’t bring ourselves to crate her, so she snuggled up on our bed—warm puppy curled behind my partner’s knees.
Our only outings became walks around the neighborhood. My partner started taking Zelda with him on these walks. She was thrilled. The word “walk” became a hot topic; he jokingly threatened to change it to “Walkies!” I quipped that I might leave him.
As the reality of the pandemic settled in, not only did Zelda keep the kids entertained, but she also became a stress relief for my partner, who was disheartened by the loss of in-person teaching. Zelda helped alleviate his feelings of isolation with her antics—barking, digging holes, and her amusing habit of climbing onto elevated surfaces to get attention, which we nicknamed “mountain goating.” Though the dog sometimes drove me up the wall, she was undeniably entertaining.
Zelda gave my partner a reason to stroll around the neighborhood. “The dog needs a walk,” he’d say, and off he’d go. Soon, the dog needed a run, too. She would go wild every time she spotted my partner in any athletic gear. Sneakers, shorts, and headphones sent her into a frenzy of spinning and barking. During their walks, he would talk to her non-stop. “I feel like that crazy old man talking to himself,” he’d say, “but I explain squirrels, cats, trees, and everything else.”
My partner grew fond of Zelda.
She Loves My Partner Best
Zelda is supposed to belong to the kids. When she misbehaves, my partner humorously reminds me, “She’s legally your dog. You signed the adoption papers.” Yet in reality? The dog is his in all her mischievous glory. I fondly nicknamed her Miss Piggy because her attitude matches the spoiled Muppet’s—so much so that when my 10-year-old discovered this, he nearly wheezed in laughter.
Now that my partner is teaching in person again, Zelda has learned what that means. Pathetically, she lays at his feet while he gets dressed, steals his shoes, and even tries to tug off his socks as he puts them on.
She cries when he leaves and rushes to greet him when he arrives home. My partner cuddles with her on the couch; she sleeps in our bed; and she brings him joy through the struggles of the pandemic. “The dog is the best gift you never meant to give me,” he confessed once.
He’ll deny having said that.
I thought I was adopting Zelda for my kids. And I did—she runs around the yard with them, sleeps in my youngest’s bed half the time, and plays rough with them. But unbeknownst to me, I really brought the dog home for my partner. “You’ve fulfilled my need for a small, useless dog,” he tells me.
Then they go on walkies.
If you’re interested in more insights about home insemination, check out this other blog post. For authoritative information on related topics, visit this resource or explore pregnancy information.
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- How to choose the right dog for your family
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Summary:
This reflective narrative discusses the unexpected journey of adopting a puppy named Zelda during a challenging time. Initially met with skepticism from the author’s partner, Zelda quickly became a beloved family member and source of joy, particularly for her owner. The story highlights the evolving dynamics of family, grief, and unexpected companionship, especially during the isolating times of the pandemic.