Seven years ago, I put this sheltie keychain into storage. My tears fell as I gently rubbed the worn spot on the enamel nose. A holiday gift from my husband, it once brought me joy every time I opened my front door. After our beloved dog passed away, I could not bear to look at it. The sight of it reminded me of the hole in my heart that can never be filled.
Yesterday, I retrieved the keychain from storage. Placed a set of keys on it. And then tucked it into a tiny secret compartment of my handbag, to carry close to my heart every day.
I used to bring my dog everywhere. Restaurants. Museums. Movie theaters. He attended a screening of Independence Day in Morningside Heights, and barked in response to the dog in the film. For years, anytime I ran into old friends, they jokingly poked my bags to see if my dog was inside. In the wake of 9/11, security everywhere tightened, so the era of bringing my dog anywhere and everywhere ended. By that time, my husband and I owned a home, so leaving our dog behind was more feasible than when we lived with him in a college dorm room.
I adopted my dog when I was a twenty year old college sophomore. I walked into a Manhattan pet store and instantly fell in love with his tiny triangular face resting across his sister’s back. In the years since he passed away, I have stopped into that store several times, trying to recreate that magical moment. I stand in the exact place where I first saw my dog. Stare at the kennel that held him. Look down into the deep triangular basin where the store keeper placed him to leap excitedly toward my hands. I have never loved another animal with the kind of fierce devotion I gave my dog.
My boyfriend and I used to bring our dog on fencing trips. He frolicked on a beach with fencers. Sat sedately beneath chairs on airplanes and in restaurants, his wet black nose snuffling my hand as I slipped him treats. Once, we forgot him in our rush to board a plane. A fierce bark caused me and my boyfriend to yell at each other to keep him quiet before we realized that neither of us had him. Out of the bag, he was my constant shadow, bringing smiles to faces as we passed people on sidewalks. Look, Lassie got shrunk in the dryer! a person called.
I have slowly stopped looking for him every time I feel something brush against my leg. Stopped automatically making room for him to jump up on the bed. I look longingly at every sheltie I see, seeking resemblances to my dog. My dog made a major impact on my life. In many ways, he is the reason why I work from home. I could never spend enough time with him, and now the same holds true with my children.
Kathy Zucker is an international social media Shorty Award winner, mother of three and a startup founder at companies including the Metro Moms Network®.