There was something about the way Dozer Zollner moved through a room — unhurried, certain of his welcome, like a creature who had always known he belonged. Born on October 6, 2011, he arrived into a family and quietly became the heartbeat of it.
He went by many names: Bubba. Porky Porky Pig. Our good boy. Each nickname was its own small love letter, worn smooth from use, the kind that only gets spoken by people who adore someone completely.
Dozer shared his days with siblings Nubbs, Hercules, Ghost, and Asha — and whatever room held all of them together held something rare. He was the steady warmth in the middle of it all, the one whose presence made the house feel fuller, calmer, more like home.
He was known and loved for:
- The particular way he claimed his space — not loudly, but with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly where he stood
- His gift for being *present*, for showing up beside you without being asked, as if he simply sensed the moment you needed company
- The unconditional, uncomplicated joy he brought to the people lucky enough to call him theirs
Losing him has left a silence that has its own shape — the outline of a good and faithful life.
*Dozer, our good boy, you were our sunshine, and the warmth of you never leaves.*