Zoomies

I love my dogs so deeply. Having shared my life with several of them, I can truly say they are the sweetest, most joyful companions. I still remember having a litter of four or five puppies; the moment I woke up, they would rush toward my bed to lick my face, playfully nipping and scrambling over me. It instantly boosted my mood — there was simply no better way to start the morning. Afterward, I would feed them, and of course, they would leave messes absolutely everywhere. But I never minded, because they were just babies.

Even as they grow, their habits are endlessly endearing. Watching them get the “zoomies,” seeing them proudly parade around with a stolen sock, or watching them tilt their head when spoken to never fails to make me smile. It truly feels like they understand our language. Honestly, how do they just know that “sit” means sit? It is amazing to witness.

They are more than just pets; they are the true witnesses to my existence. Whenever I am working on a project or an activity — which requires zero dogs, by the way — they insist on being part of it. They will either sleep right by my side or playfully bite at the work I have just finished. And their greetings are unmatched. Every single time I come home, they welcome me by jumping up and down or begging to be carried, treating my return like a historic event even if I only stepped away to go to the bathroom.

But it brings me so much sadness that they cannot live forever. If I had the choice, they are the only companions I would want by my side for as long as I live. Their lifespans are tragically short; they cram so much vibrant life into a few brief years. It hurts deeply to remember the ones I lost to incurable sicknesses. Even when they were suffering, they would still try to smile and wag their tails, which only broke my heart further when they finally stopped breathing. With the ones who grew old, I noticed the gray hairs slowly framing their muzzles, and watched as their wild sprints gradually turned into gentle jogs. I want them to live forever.

Ultimately, I have realized that loving a dog means accepting a broken heart later. You go into it knowing that an ending will come, and that it will shatter you — but you choose to do it anyway. You choose to give them your whole heart because they are entirely worth it. The stolen socks, the morning kisses, and the quiet comfort of their presence are worth every ounce of future pain. They give us a lifetime of pure devotion in the short time they are here, and I would willingly let my heart break again and again just to have known their love.