An Ode to Jezebel

R.I.P., Jezebel

 
As I return from my 10 days away I realize the clock is ticking on my life returning to "normal".  If I had the energy and a little more money I might just travel the globe and check in with work just to pay the bills.  Maybe someday.

I've been afforded a chance at freedom that I haven't had in 19 years.  After a long life, my dog passed away last month, finally making her way to doggie heaven.  It was a tough thing to put her down, but it was time.  She was overcome with dementia and lack of bladder control.  Poor thing didn't know where she was or who she had become.  At that level, all dogs narrow their "tunnel vision" lives even further.  Sleep, food, poop, snack, pee, poop again, food, snack, pee, sleep.  And they're not particular about where they do any of those things.  Such is the life of our dogs that we feel guilty at letting them go.  But they have truly "passed on", way before their bodies have given up the ghost.

I started noticing changes in her spirit and actions probably 2 years ago.  As she got older, she became more unpredictable.  That was probably the most frustrating part for me.  I never knew when she was ready to pee or poop, or if she was hungry or was about to throw up.  I doubt she knew much as well.  It just came up out of nowhere and she responded as best she could.  My parents visited last year and I remember my mother commenting on how Jezzy's personality had seemed to vanish.  The changes had been so gradual that I hadn't noticed it as much as she did.

I don't blame Jezzy for what she did in these last years.  In some ways, I blame myself.  By prolonging her life beyond when it was satisfying, I think I probably gave her a little pain.  But she was so hard to read.  Never, and I mean NEVER, did she complain or whimper about anything.  I had gotten her when she was 6 months old from an animal shelter, and it was obvious by the way she jealously guarded her food that she had had to fend for herself out there in the mean streets of Dayton, OH.  Jezzy was tough as nails, even for a small dog of less than 20 pounds.  She would take on dogs bigger than her if they dare touch her treat or food.

I like to think her feistiness was a reflection on me.  They say a dog takes after her master.  I always admired her enthusiasm.  When she was younger she would chase after squirrels with such reckless abandon.  No matter how many times the leash would go taut and her neck would jump back, she still thought it was "way cool" to just chase after that fuzzy creature.  I often wondered what it would be like if she actually caught one.  I seriously doubt she would have eaten it.  Something tells me she just liked chasing after animals with herky-jerky movements like squirrels.

I do recall one time when she slipped through her collar while chasing a squirrel.  She didn't shed much, so her hair would grow and I would absent-mindedly forget that her thick neck was all hair.  So sometimes the collar would get caught up over one ear or she would just struggle out of it at the most inopportune time.  This time, she sprang out of her neck trap and headed right for a small tree whilst the squirrel was starting to climb.

The squirrel was fah-reeking out and climbing as fast as it could.  It got so nervous that it fell out of the tree and landed on the ground next to the sidewalk, probably no more than 10 feet from me.  Jezzy was ready and took off.  Of course, what could the squirrel do?  Well, find the nearest shelter and hide.  That happened to be my wheelchair!  I'm not sure there's anything worse than seeing a wild animal charging straight at you.  Better a squirrel than a rhino, I always say.  I was frozen.  Before I knew it he had jumped between my legs and hidden below my wheelchair.  I looked down on the side of my wheelchair just in time to see the squirrel scoot through the wheel spokes on the other side and head to safety.  My dog had taken a wrong turn and circled the wrong way.  Somehow the squirrel had been able to calm himself long enough to decipher where freedom beckoned.

And that, my friends, was about as close as Jezzy ever came to eating a squirrel!

I find myself stopping now when I hear a slight noise, thinking it's her getting up from a nap.  Or maybe I catch myself in the morning getting up to take her out for her morning constitution.  She will always be with me and now I can remember the good times when she was a happy dog, full of life and excitement at the prospects of a new day.  I thought I had gotten over my loss, especially with my trip to New Orleans and the obvious advantages of not having to care for a sick dog.

But at home, buried in my pile of unopened mail, was a letter from the Animal Welfare League of Arlington.  A former neighbor in Virginia had donated some money in the name of Jezebel.  And all those thoughts and emotions of my doggie came rushing back as if they had been lying dormant in the back of my brain for these past few weeks.

Yeh, she is gone, but I'll always have my memories of her and the good times we had.  She was a precious thing and a gift from God.  I will never regret having her or going through the pain of losing her.  Life is full of happiness and sadness and we must always take the good with the bad.  Without both, you don't appreciate the significance and richness of life.

Godspeed, Jezzy.  I hope you are in a better place.

Your grateful owner,

Todd Cox