Loss of a True Friend

On Tuesday, May 25, 2010, I put my nearly-constant companion of the past seven and a half years to sleep. Jasper, a mixed breed dog, had had a number of surgeries over his short lifespan, with most of them geared to fixing his myriad of orthopaedic problems. Last fall it was discovered that he had already worn out both back hips, so we were keeping him happy and able to go by medicating him with a combination of Deramaxx and Tramadol. But on Tuesday morning, it was apparent that my boy was in extreme pain, so I rushed him to his veterinarian, which, unfortunately, is a 50 mile one-way trip. I do not regret my decision, nor have I sufficiently grieved over my loss, partly because I know it was the right thing to do. But Jasper was my buddy, my pal, my dog.

Jasper and his four sisters were discovered on Christmas Day, 2002, and they could not have been over five weeks old. Someone had abandoned them by a local horse trail, and for reasons still unknown to me, I took a drive out to that area after our Christmas dinner. We did not need another pet, much less more dogs, as we already had three dogs and three cats. But I brought three of them home, having found an individual willing to take the two black female puppies off my hands.

Jasper was an extremely shy puppy from the get-go, and his sister that we ended up keeping as well, Missy, bullied him mercilessly. I would have to stand guard over him while he ate his food; otherwise, Missy would gobble it all down; in fact, Missy's name evolved from the nickname, Miss Piggy.

Missy first became my dog, but when Jasper had his first knee surgery between the age of one and two years old, he then became mine and poor Missy bounced back and forth between being my husband and son's dog until about three years ago when she finally became my son's constant companion. It's a thousand wonders that Jasper ever trusted me as much as he did as I was always the one who took him to the vet, and over the years he had the following operations: 1) combined neutering and hernia operation; 2) removal of a cyst located between his eyes; 3) removal of a cyst behind his left front leg; 4) treatment for severe hot spots; and 5) three operations to correct subluxating kneecaps (he voided the first operation when he was placed in a crate for the first time, unattended, and the operation had to be performed a second time). But he was a tough fellow, and rarely complained, although he must have been in pain. And when I asked his veterinarians when would the time right to put him to sleep, they said when he was no longer happy and willing to do things; so that took up right up until yesterday.

All my other pets, with the exception of one, have lived to ripe old ages, so maybe I grieve Jasper's loss a little more than the others. I already miss his big head, nudging my left arm up and over his neck to pet and hug him; miss his big body following me to the restroom, outside, in the kitchen, or to lay beside me in the living room while watching tv. I'll also think of him and miss him when I'm eating popcorn, as he dearly loved it, and I continue to think of him when I see his favorite toys (a tennis ball or large, soft, squeaky toys) or his empty food bowl.

We still have other dogs that will help fill the void, but they will never replace my Jabber Joy. Rest in peace, my dear friend; you've earned it. Lovingly, Mommy