The Border Collie Who Opened My Heart

Chris & Zep

When I first brought my Border Collie, Zeppelin, home in August 2015, I didn’t expect it to be life changing. But that’s exactly what it was.

He was immediately embraced by the family as most puppies are with warmth and love.

But there was something different about this dog.

And I was quietly determined to find out what it was.

At the time, my heart wasn’t open like it is now.

I was actually in the middle of one of the most traumatic periods of my life.

Zeppelin had arrived just before everything completely fell apart.

He was too young to take for walks yet, so we stayed home at first.

I had no idea he had been sent by the Most High to anchor me through the fire.

When the time came, we started walking.

Playing.

Hanging out.

He was so innocent.

So pure.

I found myself caring for him deeply, nurturing, protecting.

He was my boy.

And slowly, something started to change in me.

My heart began to open.

I loved him.

Truly.

But in that first year, I wasn’t fully aware of what was happening.

I just knew there was something sacred in our bond.

He was also there every time something major happened. Spiritual openings, career shifts, emotional reckonings.

He’d just sit quietly near me, watching.

No judgment.

Just presence.

Whether I was breaking apart or starting anew, Zeppelin was there.

Then, about a year later after I’d gone through a deep awakening, it hit me.

He was here for a reason.

But what reason?

One day, I was in Revelations Bookstore on Chapel Street, chatting with P, the owner.

I turned to browse the shelves.

The place was full of rare and wild titles, everything metaphysical you could imagine.

UFOs, secret societies, occult wisdom, dream interpretation… and then, out of nowhere, a book caught my eye.

“Your Dog Is Your Mirror” by Kevin Behan.

I was drawn to it.

I didn’t even know why.

I bought it, went home, and started reading.

I was hooked.

It was dense, not something you could binge but it was powerful.

The central message hit me hard:

Dogs help us heal. They help us uncover and release emotional blockages.

Your dog reflects you. And in doing so, helps transform you.

Zeppelin wasn’t just my companion, he was a healer.

He’d been sent to help awaken me.

To open my heart.

And he didn’t just help me.

After I eventually left the family home and my brothers followed, Zeppelin stayed behind and began healing my parents.

I carried deep guilt for leaving him.

He was like my son.

My brother once told me I’d deserted him, dumped him with our parents.

I was so angry I stopped speaking to him.

"Fuck you," I thought. "That’s not what happened."

When I moved into an apartment on Greville Street, Prahran.

My mum refused to let Zeppelin leave the house.

“He’s my baby,” she said.

“You can’t take him.”

And she was right.

The family home was his home.

To take him would’ve been selfish.

He made it clear too.

Any time he left, to stay at our other property or visit a friend’s, he’d always let us know when he wanted to go back.

He’d sit by the door.

Or if he was off lead at the park or beach, he’d wander back and sit quietly, waiting to be leashed and taken home.

I accepted it.

With a heavy heart.

We had to part ways.

I had to walk alone.

But he was still with me, always.

There was one day I’ll never forget.

We were out walking when we came across an older man with a big pit bull.

I didn’t like the feel of it.

The guy seemed unaware.

I tried to walk past quickly, but his dog slipped the lead and charged straight for Zep.

Zeppelin cowered and turned away.

Without thinking, I jumped between them.

The pit bull lunged and bit my hand. Hard.

The pain was immediate.

I yelled and wrapped my shirt around my hand.

Blood was pouring out and I could see bone.

But all I could think about was protecting Zep.

I had him in one hand, shielding him with my body.

The old guy froze, useless, full of fear, stammering apologies but unable to act.

Just then, a family on bikes rolled past and saw what happened.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” one of them asked.

“I’m fine,” I said, holding my shirt tight. “I just didn’t want my collie to get hurt.”

They helped handle the situation while the man and his dog left.

I went home and said to my mum calmly,

“Don’t freak out… but I need to go to the hospital.”

Of course, she freaked out.

We went.

I had injections, some cleaning up, and a cast for a while.

But I was okay.

Zep was okay.

That’s what mattered.

Zeppelin also shifted something deeper in me.

He was a major reason I started to lean toward becoming vegetarian.

I loved him so much.

And at some point, it just didn’t feel right anymore to love one animal and eat another.

I had changed.

Something inside me had softened and awakened.

Over the years, people have fallen in love with him.

Friends have wanted to take him home.

One even said, “I want a Zep, an exact clone!”

I get it.

Now, his days are beautiful.

He walks along the beach.

He plays.

He relaxes at my parents’ bush retreat, surrounded by nature and space.

He watches kangaroos from the porch. He lives a life many dream of.

He turns ten this year.

He’s my boy.

A gift from God.

Zeppelin Hatzis, Border Collie.

Everyone thinks their dog is the best and none of them are wrong.