Jesse, 1988-2005

I hope you'll indulge me here for a bit. The reason I've been light on the posting since this morning is that my almost-18 year old border collie Jesse finally lost her battle against Father Time.

It's been said that dogs are kids that never grow up. They look to you for shelter and sustanance. They trust you to make the right decisions for them. And, unlike kids, they have an enormous protection instinct, seeing to it that no harm comes to you - whether it's via physical protection or verbal. (Jesse was very verbal.)

They can't communicate with words, but their faces speak volumes. They know what kind of mood you're in when you walk through the door. And no matter how lousy a day you had, they never hold back on that great "YAY! You're HOME!" dance when you do.

I married a cat girl, but Jesse won her over. Even when we brought two cats into the family, Jesse befriended both. One of them, Woody, a chocolate-point Siamese with a raccoon tail, declared Jesse to be his best friend out of all the mammals in the house.
_______

Just a quick flashback to Day One, January 1989 - I was working in Chicago and adopted this year-old black border collie from a no-kill shelter called "Orphans Of The Storm." There was little known about this dog - she was abandoned at the doorstep of the shelter. She shared a pen with three yellow retrievers who were carousing. The border collie was leaning against the door of the pen, looking up at me as if to say, "Get me away from these nutbags."

I took her for a walk on the giant lawn they had there, and aside from looking for her old owner, she seemed well-adjusted and friendly. I named her "Jesse," loosely named after a New Zealand comic strip character.

Within two days, I came to know how smart this animal was. On the way home from the shelter, I picked up one of those wicker dog beds for her, which she immediately curled up into the first night.

I should point out here that I worked nights, and generally came home to my apartment in Evanston after midnight.

5:00am the next morning she starts orbiting my bed. Ah. She needs to go out. "Good Girl!" We walk the entire block and return - and I fall face-down back into bed.

The following morning, again - she's orbiting my bed at 5am. This time, I pointed at her bed and said, "LIE DOWN." Up go the ears. "LIE DOWN. We'll walk when I wake up." She curled up back into the bed to my very grateful "Good Girl," and every morning since that day, she stayed put until my feet hit the floor.
_______

Nothing prepares you for the moment of finality for your pet, especially after her being underfoot for 17 years. Her legs became frail in March, and we were almost sure her time had come. But Bullit (my wife for you newcomers) changed her diet and walked her several times a day - and managed to keep Jesse going for this much longer.

I picked her up from the vet this morning, where we boarded her while we were out of the country. They had worked on some pressure sores she had, but no matter how much they worked with her, she could no longer walk on her own. It finally seemed cruel for her to spend any more days unable to eat, go to the bathroom, or do just about anything because her body just wouldn't allow it.

Still, I picked her up and took her back home one last time. I cooked up a nice ribeye bison steak which we shared for one last meal together. Hey, you can't go to heaven on an empty stomach. I gave her a bite, and took a bite myself. Again, a bite for her, a bite for me. After that, the rest of the bites were hers. I hand-fed her the rest of the meal which she ate with a dog's dispatch. It was also the most she had eaten in one sitting in several weeks.

We took her for one last walk (with a LOT of propping up) and Bullit let her ride shotgun for the final car ride. At the vet, I carried her into the examination room where Jesse and I would say our goodbyes. I still didn't know what I would say, but I sure hoped it would have been the right thing.

The doctor was the epitome of compassion. I was face-to-face with Jesse for a few final moments, and on my nod, they began the injection - with Jesse's head cradled in my hands. That's when I instinctively said the words that I said that first morning.

"Good Girl."

I added "Thank you, Jesse." Within seconds, sleep overtook her followed by a very peaceful exit. The vet took the stethoscope off and said the three words which they're trained to say in this situation.

"She's at rest."

They left us alone in the exam room. With her head still in my hands, I kissed Jesse's forehead, said a final goodbye and left after a few more moments.
_______

When we lived in NYC, Jesse used to love chasing the squirrels in Central Park. She was 0 for 89. Somewhere up there, Jesse - with a belly full of ribeye - is finally catching one of those little bastards tonight.

It's been a rough day, so thanks for letting me impose this farewell to Woody's (and our) best canine friend on you guys.

Good girl, Jesse. Good girl.

Comments

[Barry from Alaska]

I'm sure my old cats will make sure Jesse is well taken care of at Rainbow Bridge.

So sorry for ya Hoff.

[Ben of NoHo]

I lost my friend of 18 years. Pat and I cradled her as she left the world. Like you and Bullit, the last hands she felt were ours, as were the last voices she heard. My heart goes out to both of you. And I share with you the poem a friend shared with me.

I explained to St. Peter,
I’d rather stay here,
Outside the pearly gate.
I won’t be a nuisance,
I won’t even bark,
I’ll be very patient and wait.
I’ll be here, chewing on a celestial bone,
No matter how long you may be.
I’d miss you so much if I went in alone,
It wouldn’t be heaven for me.

[ardyjay]

I had a Blue Healer (Australian cattle dog crossed with dingo) once who was smarter than many, many people I've met in my life. She taught me how (among other things) to throw a stick until my arm was ready to fall off. She was so tenacious that, once, when I couldn't take anymore, I threw the stick into a half acre of THICK blackberry brambles in an attempt to make her stop. Patch took off into those bramble like a rocket. I felt guilty as hell. She crashed around for 15 minutes and returned with that exact stick. When my daughter was learning to walk, Patch would follow close behind as she toddled down the trail. The minute she had gone far enough, Patch would block her path until she had turned my daughter around and herded her back to my wife. Amazing to see, and completely intuitive. Your story brought back the sadness of her death- almost 20 years ago.I just cried my guts out. But you did the right thing. I hope you sleep as well as she does, chasing those NYC squirrels through the clouds.

[kriselda jarnsaxa]

I can't imagine how hard that had to be - I have three furkids of my own that I will mourn greatly (hopefully in the far distant future), but you not only sent her out with a great deal of love, you also gave her a life full of love, and that's what's important.

[crying grandma]

Omigod - I can't stop crying. Jesse was a lucky dog and you deserved her love. I know how you feel - I've been there too.

God bless you and Jesse.

[buddhistMonkey]

"... you not only sent her out with a great deal of love, you also gave her a life full of love, and that's what's important."

I second that emotion. You were both lucky to have each other.

[Paolo]

jesse
(janis ian)

jesse come home
there's a hole in the bed
where we slept
now it's growing cold
hey jesse, your face
in the place where we lay
by the hearth, all apart
it hangs on my heart

and i'm leaving the light on the stairs
no i'm not scared - i wait for you
hey jesse, i'm lonely, come home

jesse, the floors and the boards
recalling your step
and i remember, too
all the pictures are fading
and shaded in grey
but i still set a place
on the table at noon
...

[terri]

You done good, Hoff. Difficult, but good. Thanks for taking the time to write about it.

[Susan]

I am so sorry for your loss. We lost our Siamese, Bunny, after 16 years, and our Black Lab, Baxter, after 12. It is so hard. They truly are like children. When Bunny died, my Vet sent me this poem. Maybe it will give you some comfort.

Rainbow Bridge
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown...

[Tom Joad]

This really hit me hard too. I've had many dogs in my life.

Right now an English Springer Spaniel...and she's 13. She's having it worse and worse, but god it is hard to decide when it is time. You did well.

When I was 17, my parents split, my mom sold the house, and I had to go out on my own, and our dog that we had so many years was sick (convulsing often) and I felt I had to be the one to bring her to the vet. She knew. Damn..she just knew and did not want to go, but there was no choice.

I couldn't handle (at that age..I now wish I had) being there when it happened. I had to pull off to the side of the road several times to just bawl. That sadness is all part of having a friend as a pet. I'm 49 and still can get teary and regretful if I remember that time.

Looks like it will be again in the not far enough future for us with our dog now. It was comforting in a way to read this, thank you.

And you know...after some time for adjustment, I know we'll get another dog. And love it too.

We haven't had a full nights sleep in years, because she gets restless at night. But she still plays and is playful, and still is excited when we come home, and still is with us.

Thanks for writing that.

[ron, Lynchburg]

WOW! just WOW! Great Writing!
My co-workers are sitting here wondering what this old man is sniffling about.

I have two rescued Border Collies, who share my home, tennis balls, and Frisbees. I know what wonderful friends they are, but can only guess how you must miss Jesse.
God Bless.
Thanks for letting me meet Jesse, thru you.

[Mary]

When my faithful dog Prince died, I was amazed at the depth and length of mourning. I told a friend, I mourned the loss of Prince more than my own aged father. The friend said, You lived with Prince everyday and he was part of your life day in and day out, season by season and you haven't lived with your father for many years. It's natural. Thanks for posting and I salute Jesse.

[Paul, Winchester, UK]

I'm Sorry Mate. Very Sad.

[steve duncan]

I tell my friends if they ever give me a dog be sure to give me the recipe that goes with it.

[Michael O'Brien]

Hi Howard,

So now you have turned me into a blubering idiot here at work. I am so sorry. I have a minature schnauzer who I absolutely adore and I cannot bare to think of the day that she leaves us.

I once heard a story about a man and his dog going to heaven. St. Peter said, "I am sorry, but you are going to have to leve your dog behind -- there are no dogs in Heaven."

The man pondered for a little bit and said, "This is my best friend and I am never going to leave her." So he turned around and headed for Hell.

After a long journey, he turned the corner, the gates to Hell looked exactly like the gates to Heaven. The man asked, "What is going on -- isn't this hell?"

The real St. Peter said, "We let the devel sort out the good from the bad. Anyone who would leave their dog behind doesn't deserve to be in Heaven."

[phastphil]

I grew up with a border collie, "Freckles" was a member of the family 2 years before I came along. Freckles was a Chicago dog also, but when we took her on vacation to my grandmothers farm in Wisconson, she immediately jumped from the car and herded the sheep and goats.
I feel your pain.

[dang]

i'm going through something like what you've just gone through with jessie. my shepherd mix, greta, is about 14, and has a tumor in her abdomen...she's got a couple months left.

she's a shadow of her former self, physically, due to the tumor and the arthritis that's wracked her body. despite her limited energy and mobility, however, she's still my greta: when i look into her eyes, i can still see the bright light of her playful, loving personality shining through. and until that light goes out, i'll cherish every day i still have with my faithful friend and companion.

there's something so pure in the way an animal loves you - it's unconditional and unfailing and utterly accepting of you. how many people can you say that about in your life? they highlight for us the important things - the simple things - in life: keep your pack close and safe, enjoy your food and drink with abandon, play hard and at the end of the day, rest and seek comfort with your loved ones. no day is ever truly bad if you have those things. all the rest is just noise.

i'm truly sorry about your loss, hoff. i don't know how i'm going to face mine, when that time comes -- though i fear it's coming soon.

[Ian Bruce]

Thanks for sharing that... a very sweet story.

[Mad as Hell]

Bullit and Hoff, what can we say to make you feel better? You did good. What a long, long life! Do you realize that Jesse was 126?

[sarah, philadelphia]

Did that six times in the last three years, you did the right thing. So sorry......but now it's time to fill that border collie's space with another one. Nothing else will do.

[kali yuga]

One of my favorite movie scenes is in "A Boy and His Dog," when Vic has to choose between the girl and Blood, the dog.

Personally, I'll take dogs over people every time.

http://brutusworks.com/bernard/index.html

[Vijay, Kuala Lumpur]

Sorry for your loss Hoff. She must have had a good ride with an owner like you. She's in a better place.

[Sandi]

I had to say goodbye to my 12-year old border terrier this past October. I sang her a song and, like you, my last words to her were "good girl". Best wishes to you and Bullit.

[Daughter of Viet Vet]

Hoff, the animals of this world need more people like you.

[Smafty]

I had three dogs poisoned when I was a kid, I still get heavy hearted when I write about it.

My sincere best wishes for you and yours on this day as you mourn your loss.