Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Jessie Jane

Those unfortunate enough to have been born without the love of animals in their souls would wonder how a person could have their heart broken by a 12 pound bit of fluff that was Jessie Jane, the Yorkie.  I'll tell you how.

She came into my life just before Thanksgiving six years ago.  The first eight years of her life had been spent as a breeder at a kennel that sold Yorkies.  Her owner was one who took good care of her dogs, seeing to it that they had regular vet visits, good food, a clean kennel and run.  This was not a puppy mill operation, but a reputable dog breeder.

What Jessie Jane did not have then was the attention she craved.  Nor was she around people other than her owner.  She lived in her kennel and had puppies.  And when she was too old to breed any more, I received a call asking me to please give her a home.  She was the third Yorkie that this same kennel owner had entrusted to my care.

She was shy.  She scared easily.  She didn't trust people because she had never seen more than one in her entire life.  So we went to work.

We sat on the stoop outside my building so she could become accustomed to the sights and sounds of her new neighborhood.  Then we went for walks.  Short ones at first and then longer ones, to the park and along the river.  It didn't take long before she was greeting everyone she met.  She considered everyone her friend.

We sat on the couch and snuggled.  She helped me in the kitchen, making sure that no piece of food dropped ever stayed on the floor for more than three seconds.  She discovered treats and developed a bouncing up and down, turning in circles dance to get one.  And she smiled.  She looked like a demented chipmunk when she smiled, but she smiled.

She grumbled when I would not share my spaghetti with her.  If I made the mistake of setting a bag of kitchen trash next to my apartment door while I went to put on my shoes, it was a given that I would find her buried up to her back legs in the bag when I returned, her little stump of a tail wagging madly as she joyously explored the contents.  She was smart and naughty and willful and funny.  She made me laugh.  She was affectionate, pestering me until I picked her up and gave her some pets and belly rubs.

Some would say that I did a good thing by taking her in and giving her a good life.  But truth be known, I believe she gave to me more happiness than I could have possibly given to her.


Rest in peace, Jessie Jane.  You were well loved.

20 comments:

  1. I'm really sorry, Mom. I know how special she was to you. Duane

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  2. Sorry it worked out this way. I'm sure that Jessie Jane would argue that last point. Your a good person, Vicki.

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  3. Thank you, son. There just was nothing that anyone could do. I couldn't let her suffer. It helped to hear your voice when you called this morning. I will be OK.
    Love, Mom

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  4. Thanks, Matt. I'm sorry, too, for I will really miss her. But for me to not do the right thing would have been selfishness on my part, and I just couldn't prolong the inevitable.

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  5. So very sorry to hear, but her memories will live on for a long time. Better to not let them suffer.

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  6. Thanks, Rob. Sometimes the decisions we have to make are not easy ones. But she did, over the time she shared my home, give me some great memories and lots of smiles.

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  7. After you bond, and your dog becomes your friend, the loss at the end of their too short life is that of losing family.

    Sorry for you loss. I know how deep it hurts and wish things had been different.

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  8. It's a raw, bleeding, open heart tear that leaves a long lasting pain that never totally disappears. Something only another person who has lost a furchild would know about. She knew love, and you both won the lottery for too short a time.

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  9. Thank you, Jess. You are right. They become family, and rightly so. It does hurt, but the hurt is tempered with the knowledge that she was one happy little dog with only a couple of bad days at the end. Any more than that could not be tolerated or allowed, for her sake.

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  10. Dana...You are absolutely right. I think at the moment I am just numb. She made my life happier and for that I am grateful, even if it was for a short time. Right now I am concentrating on my other Yorkie, Lily, who seems like a little lost soul and hasn't been more than three feet away from me these last few hours. I have to remember that she, too, has lost her friend.

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  11. Awww I am so sorry to hear this news. The love we have for our dogs fills the holes we all experience in our lives. Then when they leave us ...memories are left in their place. Our condolences on your loss....

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  12. Thank you, Mary...It doesn't take them long to find their place in our hearts, does it. The memories are all good ones and I was blessed to have her as long as I did.

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  13. I'm really sorry for your loss. I wasn't much of an animal person until a couple of years ago when we got our Dazey, a miniature dachshund, and then ended up with our daughters Derby, another miniature dachshund. I dread the day either of them will not be with us, but treasure the affection they give. Next to my wife they are truly my best friends.

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  14. Thank you, Jim...They really do become friends, don't they. I think because I live alone she was so much company for me. Days when things didn't always go well, her unfailing love and loyalty made everything better. I am so lucky to still have little Lily who came to live with me shortly after Jessie Jane did. Even though their lives are short, they pack a lot of good stuff into them and we are the better for it.

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  15. So sorry to hear of the loss of Jessie Jane, Vicki. The love for our furry friends is a special part of our life. They take a tiny part of our hearts with them when they have to leave us.

    Take care....blessings!

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  16. CottonLady...Thank you. When she got to the point where she could no longer walk, it was time. I really miss her, but I would rather have it this way than to try to hang on to her and have her suffer for it.

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  17. The loss of my Freddy is too raw still, and it has almost been a year. I can tell you it does get easier, but the pain doesn't really go away. It just fades into the background; then memories would surface. At this point, I am chuckling at the memories of Freddy, all the funny things he did and his force of nature personality. You were a good mom, obviously. You both gave each other something that you needed and maybe did not realize it. Hang in there, Vicki.

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  18. Furry Bottoms...Thank you for your kind words. I think the toughest part is knowing that it was my decision to end her life. But along with having our fuzzy friends comes the responsibility of making those decisions when it is necessary, even if we don't want to. She brought happiness to my life and I will always be grateful for that. The very least I could do was to see that she ended her life painlessly. Anything less than would have been cruel.

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  19. Oh, oh, oh - I didn't see this posting until now.

    Vicki, my dear, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Animals have a way of getting into our hearts to a greater degree than our fellow man - and the loss of a beloved pet really eats one up.

    Please, Vicki, draw comfort from the knowledge that Jessie Jane knew she was loved - and loved you equally in return.

    Take it easy my friend.

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  20. Dani...Thank you so much for your kind words. It is tough to lose one of our fuzzy friends. There are times when I am around some people that I am ever grateful for the unconditional love of my pets. Someone once said that they hoped they could be as good a person as their dog thought they were. I hope I fulfilled that with mine.

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