Zeus Maximus Givens, My Forever Soul Dog
February 2, 2010 – March 14, 2019
Beloved listener, healer, gentle giant, protector, loyal companion, trail mate, peacemaker, and KING of snuggles
Born in Kauai, Zeus was a purebred black Labrador with a heart as big as his paws. We rescued him in Los Angeles in 2010, and he instantly completed our family.
Zeus wasn’t just a pet, he was like a son to me. The dog I never had as a child, and everything I didn’t know I needed. He was with me through so much of life—a major health challenge, heartbreaks, celebrations, and all the moments in between. Zeus always radiated a love that was steady, unconditional, and pure. Every night, Zeus made sure he was close to me, curled up on the floor beside the bed, or sneaking in whenever he could. He just needed to be near.
He truly lived up to his name.
Like the mighty figure he was named after, Zeus carried a quiet strength and calming presence. He didn’t rule with thunder, but led with love, loyalty, and a spirit that touched everyone around him. Neighbors were inspired to rescue dogs because of him. He made a difference just by being himself.
Our lives were intertwined in so many ways. We even shared matching left ACL surgeries. Zeus had his first, and not long after, he helped me push through the final stretch of my own recovery. He’d nip at me as if to say, “Come on, Mom!” and challenge me to a sprint. And he usually won.
Cade and Laine grew up with him and made lots of fun memories at the beach—especially watching him dig with pure joy in the sand in search of the buried tennis ball. He loved charging the waves and sprinting along the shoreline with the kids as the sun went down. He was the star of every birthday party, proudly wearing party hats (at least for a few minutes), and patiently tolerated the handmade signs and drawings they lovingly taped to his crate.
Zeus was like Nana from Peter Pan, always looking out for Cade and Laine. He gently woke them for school and waited faithfully by the door when they came home. He let Laine read stories to him, lying beside her as if he understood every word. He listened patiently as they practiced their instruments, never flinching at a wrong note, and proudly joined Cade on countless commando missions, always ready for the next adventure.
He had a special way of connecting with each of them, like he just knew what made them feel safe and loved. Zeus was happiest when he was close, part of their world in whatever way he could be. He wanted to be included in everything—sports practices, carpool pickups, quick trips to the store. If the car door was open, Zeus was in. He truly believed he belonged wherever we were…and honestly, he did.
Zeus was a big reason we moved to Colorado. I had grown tired of the traffic, the noise, and the constant restrictions in Redondo Beach. We both craved more—more space, more freedom, more adventure. Zeus and I weren’t meant to be fenced in. We were made to roam, to run, to explore.
And in Colorado, we finally could. We found open skies, endless trails, and all the fresh air our lungs could hold. We ran through pine forests, scrambled over rocks, and splashed through creeks, no leash in sight. We ran wild and free, muddy and full of joy.
His favorite words? Ball. Squirrel. Walk. Treat.
Zeus’s purpose was clear:
– To love unconditionally.
– To be beside us in joy, sorrow, anger, and everything in between.
– To protect us, even if it meant putting himself in harm’s way—whether it was a coyote attack, multiple rattlesnakes, Laine’s run-in with a bear, three skunk sprays, sprained tails, cones of shame, or a broken cuspid thanks to an unfortunate baseball swing.
Before long, my clients began asking if Zeus would be at their sessions. So it only made sense to get him a Grief Recovery vest, one he wore proudly wherever we went.
And let’s not forget his undeniable talent as a counter surfer…stealing sticks of butter, bags of tortillas, and anything else that looked remotely edible. If it was left unattended, Zeus considered it fair game. He also had a special gift for delicately sorting through the kitchen garbage, carefully sniffing out and “taste-testing” only the finest scraps, as if he had his own gourmet selection process.
Zeus kept our local vet in business and kept us on our toes.
And of course, he had his own special way of apologizing with those big, beautiful brown eyes and an expression so sincere, you couldn’t stay mad for long.
One of the greatest joys I discovered was Zeus’s natural ability to comfort my Grief Recovery clients. He had an incredible sense for reading the room and instinctively knowing what someone needed—whether it was resting his head on their lap or simply sitting quietly at their feet. His gentle presence helped people relax, feel safe, and let their guard down. With Zeus nearby, clients often felt more at ease expressing emotions they had been holding in for far too long.
Zeus gave us everything he had, right until the very end.
Sadly and unexpectedly, Zeus was diagnosed with cancer, and his health declined quickly.
Surrounded by love, he passed peacefully with Cade, Laine, and me by his side as he took his last breath. It was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life, one I will never forget.
Saying goodbye to Zeus was excruciating, We grieved deeply. He completed our family, and suddenly there was a huge hole in our hearts and an emptiness in our home. Losing Zeus was gut-wrenching. It knocked the wind out of me. I felt shattered and heartbroken watching my children wrestle with their own pain.
I’m forever grateful we were all there, holding him, loving him, and letting him go with the same unconditional love he had always given us.
Zeus’ death was a painful and personal reminder of how disorienting grief can be. If it weren’t for the tools of the Grief Recovery Method, I would have felt completely lost and unsure how to process my own heartbreak or how to support my children through theirs. These tools helped us face the pain with honesty, stay connected to one another, and begin to heal, one small step at a time.
That’s why I believe in this work with all my heart. Because I’ve lived it.
Now I understand why dog is God spelled backward. Zeus loved the way I believe God does—fiercely, protectively, and always present.
I will always love and miss you, my precious Zeus.
Thank you for being the best dog and companion I could ever hope for or even imagine.
You are my forever soul dog.
One day, we’ll be together again—running wild and free, and throwing tennis balls for eternity.
Forever your mom,
Crystal
