good morning bitches & goodbye barbara jean

Sep 18, 2023

good morning bitches,

On September 13th, I whispered my last “thank you” to sweet Barbara Jean as she took her final labored breaths. With her head nuzzled in the corner of her bed and her tiny pink tongue poking out between her few remaining teeth, 16-year-old Barb was finally at peace.

After several sob sessions, I decided that the official mascot of good morning bitches deserved a final sendoff in the only way I know how: by writing an unusually long obituary.

I first laid eyes on Barb through the glass at the Wheaton Petland in August 2007. My mom would let me go look at puppies while she shopped next door, but her rule was crystal clear — the Zacharias family adopts, never shops. I begged my mom to just let me hold her ONE time, but she dragged me out of there with a stern reminder that we had four cats and two dogs ready to be held at home. One week later we were back in the area, so I broke away to gaze longingly at a new batch of puppies. To my surprise, that little fluff ball was still there, and an easily persuaded employee let an unsupervised 12-year-old take her out to play. By the time my mom found me, it was game over. After several hours of crying, pleading, and calling my dad for backup support that he definitely did not give, my mom finally caved and I walked out as the proud new mom of a 2-month-old Shih Tzu.

(48 hours later, Barbara fell ill with influenza, requiring a week-long veterinary hospital stay that almost took her life. This gave my mom creative liberty to clarify that she actually “rescued Barb from Petland.”)

We’re not sure if it was the flu or if Barb playing a long con, but the sweet docile dog we thought we were getting is not who Barb turned out to be. She quickly revealed her feisty personality and proved that she was more than tough enough to play and wrestle with the big dogs and go on 5-mile walks with my dad. She’d never bite a human, but our cats weren’t always so lucky:

She majorly played favorites, and I didn’t make the top cut. My “daughter” officially became my mom’s dog within a matter of weeks!

When my mom got sick in 2018, Barb was her light in the darkness. She was not a cuddler, but she would make exceptions when she sensed my mom needed extra love. After surgeries and ambulance rides, I would sneak Barbie into the hospital and cross my fingers as nurse after nurse turned a blind eye to the lil Shih Tzu who was definitely *not* allowed to be there.

Luckily, she was fully welcome at the hospice center where my mom was admitted whenever she was very ill, including the last week of her life. Staff often found Barb sneaking out of my mom’s room, trotting down the halls to visit other patients and begging for treats from the nurses.

Barb giving me extra cuddles at Seasons Hospice 10/29/2019

My mom always knew that I was going to be okay when she died, but she was VERY worried about whether or not I could step up to the plate as sole caretaker of 12-year-old Barbara Jean. My mom thought I hung the moon in every way, but she literally had ZERO faith in my potential as a dog mom.

Almost four years later, I think it’s safe to say I made her proud.

As we both navigated fresh grief, a global pandemic, and lots of anxiety, Barb and I became attached at the hip. She sat by my side as I renovated my condo, watched me produce live TV from home, endured countless costumes and sweaters, and finally embraced car rides on trips to Kentucky, Missouri, and Michigan. On days when life did not feel worth living, she was my reason to get out of bed and keep going. Her smiling face made coming home feel like a privilege every time I opened the door. She licked my tears when I was missing my mom and comforted me throughout three years of visits to her gravesite.

These special years also brought a new person into Barb’s life: her dad, my fiancé, JR.

Barb didn’t let many people into her heart, but JR easily won her over. He took care of Barbie every day that I worked in the office so she didn’t have to be home alone, and she was spoiled daily with long walks, treats, and apartment chases. He loved Barbie with every ounce of his being and only wishes he could have met her sooner!

Along with JR came his family, who took Barb in as one of their own. Because of their hospitality and love for “BBJ,” we got to spend precious family time together in Naperville and at their beach house in Michigan. When Barb became too anxious to be boarded, JR’s mom, Paula, had her stay at “Paula’s Pet Hotel” or arranged for a dog sitter to take care of her at their house. Barb got the princess treatment from the Kinney family that my mom could only have dreamed of!

Barb loved napping in front of a blazing fire, chasing tiny green tennis balls, doing “perimeter checks” around the Kinneys’ backyard, Portillo’s french fries, hopping through fresh snow, and her 10+ year old stuffed animal, Bunny. But there were few things Barb enjoyed more in life than her breakfast — which is why you can hear us yelling “breakfast, breakfast” in the background of every Live Photo.

We always joked that Barb was adored for doing absolutely nothing. She could garner the attention of a whole room just by sitting motionlessly on the couch. She received dozens of replies on every Instagram story I posted of her. My vet told us that she was a “celebrity” around the office for her numerous health scares and aloof disposition. She once had 40 people at my birthday party sing happy birthday to HER as she slept soundly wearing a Hawaiian shirt. JR’s family would lovingly resort to “she’s just a Barb,” when words failed to describe her. She played hard to get and it worked every damn time.

If you know Barb, you know that her last few years did not come without drama. I became known as the “girl-who-cried-Barb-is-dying” during every one of her MANY brushes with death, including but not limited to:

Stage 3 kidney disease diagnosis (never became an issue)
Stomach cancer diagnosis (ended up being a 5-inch hairball)
An emergency vet telling me to put her down after I went on vacation (she worked herself into an anxious tizzy and only showed signs of life after we let her eat a skirt steak and no I am not exaggerating)
Collapsing on NYE 2021 (needed medicine for her heart murmur)
Becoming suddenly unable to move and whimpering constantly (tweaked her neck, needed two days of painkillers)
Ate chicken salad with grapes in it (spent 48 hours at the emergency vet and cost me my savings and my sanity)

Barbie had always found a way to bounce back, but this time her heart reached the point of no return. In the early hours of September 6th, it was clear something was wrong. She was restless and scared, and couldn’t breathe without her chest heaving up and down. She was miserable. Our vet told us to soak up a few more days while keeping her calm and comfortable. We took her on walks in a stroller, fed her Portillo’s french fries and cheese curds, and stole as many kisses as she would give. She would have moments where she looked and sounded on the brink of death, followed by hours of normalcy, which made it impossible to determine how much time we really had left with her.

She was suffering episodes of syncope, where her heart stopped pumping blood to her brain, causing her little back legs to give out, her head to flop over, and occasionally, for her to urinate herself or let out the saddest yelp you’ve ever heard. After her sixth episode, JR and I gave each other a knowing look and decided that she deserved to never experience another one again.

The next morning we took her on our final coffee walk as a family of three, gave her lots of bacon from brunch, and drove her to Naperville to say goodbye to JR’s mom and get one more run through their grass. She slept on my lap the whole way home as I unsuccessfully fought back tears. We took her for her last potty break at our neighborhood park before dreadfully walking to the vet.

When they took us into the room, Barbie was remarkably calm. JR and I both believe she knew what was happening and that she was ready to go. We held her and cried as they pushed the final IV injection. As soon as she was gone, I felt a flood of grief I hadn’t experienced in years. My sweet girl, my everyday connection to my mother, my best friend, was gone.

For all Barb’s flair for the dramatic, I am grateful that the end of her life was not tragic; it was calm, slow, and cherished. A day I’ve dreaded for years was done as much on our terms as we could have hoped for. I never again have to fear she’ll develop a fast-moving cancer, eat another grape, be attacked on a walk, or die in a house fire (did I mention I have anxiety?)

I’ve lost several pets before, but none have gutted me quite like Barb. She had an almost humanlike quality to her that has left behind an indescribable hole in our lives. My house feels incomplete without her face in the window and I haven’t even been able to move her bed away from my own. Her 16 years — and especially her last 4 — were a precious gift in my life. We were exactly what we needed from each other during our darkest days after her Nana died, and it was an honor to give her the golden years she deserved. And while I’ll forever miss her on earth, I just know that she and my mom had the sweetest reunion over a gigantic breakfast in the sky.

To Barb and to my mom: thank you…and you’re welcome 🖤 🐾