It was December 8, 2023, in the afternoon.
I was taking my walk by the sea.
I was thinking about my husband, George. It was our anniversary. He had died in 2007, but that afternoon he felt very near. I was remembering how, years earlier in Ontario, we used to rescue dogs from the local pound just before Christmas — to save their lives, and to find them forever homes.
There was Beau, the black Bouvier. Gypsy, the sheepdog mix. And Holly, named for the season — a small grey terrier someone had painted blue.
We had a farm then, with land for horses, cattle, chickens, cats, and dogs. It was a wonderful time. These were my thoughts as I walked. It was winter, and I found myself thinking how nice it would be to walk by the sea with a dog again, rather than alone.
Athan had returned to Canada for cancer treatments. I stayed on Aegina to continue with the business and keep our Greek base. Those afternoons were quiet, contemplative.
I will always think of what happened next as serendipitous.
Coming around one bend in the path, a small, dirty white moppet wriggled out from under a blue gate and rushed toward me, dancing on her back legs — black eyes alive with joy and mischief.
I didn’t want to encourage her and tried to ignore her. She followed me anyway.
She stayed with me for the rest of the walk. When I stopped to meditate on an overturned boat, she dug furiously in the dirt. When I picked up my pace, she matched it. We passed the blue gate again, but she showed no sign of recognition — just kept running circles around me as I continued along the sandy path.
She followed me all the way home.
Worried she might be lost, I retraced my steps back to the blue gate. This time, a ginger kitten was sitting on the wall, watching as I tried to convince the little dog to stay. I took a short video and posted it on Facebook, just for fun.
The next morning, I had a voice message from Sandy, one of the rescue volunteers I know well.
“I know that little dog,” she said. “Her name is Lucy.”
After that, whenever I passed the gate, Lucy was tied up inside. Most times, the ginger kitten was curled up beside her.
When I called Athan in Toronto, he was all for it. After many conversations with volunteers, the man responsible for Lucy agreed to let me take her — on one condition.
I had to take the ginger tabby too.
His name was Tzintzer. They were best friends. That much I had already witnessed.
Soon after, one evening, two cars arrived at the house. Lucy. Tzintzer. A dog bed, a cat bed, a scratching post, food, litter, brushes — everything needed to set up a new home.
That night, Elena and I gave Lucy a bath in the kitchen sink. Beneath all that matted white fur, she was barely larger than a cat.
At the same time, Athan and I were developing Aristoleo+ Microdosing, building on years of experience with the benefits of high-phenolic extra virgin olive oil. Watching Lucy and Tzintzer — wrestling in fallen bougainvillea petals, practicing pincer tactics on lizards, or sleeping curled up together — something became clear.
A pet version was not a strategy.
It was the most natural continuation in the world.
That is how Aristoleo+ Pet was born.
And how our learning — alongside Lucy and Tzintzer — truly began.
Learn more about Aegina Animal Rescue Agencies
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