[img]139|left|Jessica Gadsden||no_popup[/img]Uncle Matty told me that under no circumstances should I adopt another dog. Don’t remember Uncle Matty? Matthew Margolis was a celebrity dog trainer before celebrity dog trainers became all the rage. I’d called him and, shockingly, he’d called me back because I had (and still have) an absolutely neurotic dog who wouldn’t submit to dog training. Despite having one crazy dog, another had tugged at my heartstrings, and I was ready to give it a home.
I didn’t listen to Uncle Matty, and eight years ago allowed a wonderful dog to join our family. Jake, as he later came to be named, was a stray in our old mid-city Los Angeles neighborhood, a place where dogs were often abandoned and wandered the streets looking for food and likely homes. Our neighbors had adopted two, but Jake was ours for the taking.
Unlike other hungry dogs, he was wary of strangers.
We spent weeks chasing after the then-homeless puppy with biscuits. We’d leave dog food out, and although it had disappeared in the morning, no dog had been left in its place.
For six months, he simply vanished, no doubt moving to a part of the side streets where no kids taunted him and no people chased after him (biscuits or no). In the late summer of 2003 he reappeared. After one terrible dream about finding him dead, I persuaded my husband to join me in stalking this poor, lonely soul like a jilted lover. We found him asleep in a little patch of earth under a bush, looped a chain slip collar affixed to a leash around his neck, so that as he groggily awoke we were able to haul him to our backyard. He howled in fear the whole way, but never snapped or bared his teeth.
How Can I Trust You?
Once in the backyard and freed from his bonds, Jake ran off to a far corner and stayed there, only to venture closely after we had brought out some bowls of food and water that he hungrily devoured. We got an old dog crate and blankets for him. He slept there his first night — still outside in the backyard, still wary of our intentions.
This is how our relationship went for the next few days while I naively sought out a “no kill” shelter or home rescue operation to keep the dog. Needless to say, that was impossible because these were mostly limited to pure-bred dogs. As the days passed, he grew on us, as apparently we did on him. I came back from exercise one morning and the dog wouldn’t leave my husband’s side in the yard.
Jake never left his side for eight long years.
The first few times we took him out, we were afraid of what people might think. He was so scrawny — about half his proper body weight — and a bit scrappy, too. But people routinely looked into those warm brown eyes and told us he was the perfect dog (including Brad Garrett, so you know it must be true).
They were right.
As I mentioned, when Jake came into our home, we already had another dog, Foley. She’s been with since 1998. Indeed, when we first brought Jake into our home (to stop his howling at the back door in a clear expression that finally he no longer was wary of us), we were worried that Jake might lunge at Foley or try to eat one of our cats just as Foley had when we first brought her in. But Jake wasn’t like Foley. He was calm in the house. When one of our cats marched right up to him and swatted his face, he simply looked up at us as if to ask what it was he had done to deserve the reproach.
There Is a Difference
Now I love Foley with all my heart, but I will also be the first to tell you that she tolerates nothing and no one but me. She’s snippy, cantankerous, self-centered and likes no one — in other words, she’s one hundred percent my dog.
Jake was different. He was warm, sympathetic, agreeable and an overall good companion, much like my husband.
Shortly after we adopted Jake, we learned that our intervention had come too late. He was sick. Terribly, incurably sick. In his time on the streets, desperate for water, he had drunk out of the gutter where someone had dumped antifreeze. It had severely damaged his kidneys, and his life would be shortened considerably. Our vet told us that his prognosis was uncertain, but it would not be unsurprising if he died in six months or a year.
We were devastated by the news, but bought all the special food and medicine to make his time as long as possible and decided to soldier on.
Jake had these soulful eyes that reminded me of a person. Often he would glance at me, and I felt humbled to be with him. Sometimes I thought he was a test for my humanity. Whether or not I passed, Jake taught me humility, patience and that although some problems can’t be overcome if you work hard, with passion and love, they can be managed. An old dog can learn new tricks.
It’s been thirteen years since I’ve had to say goodbye to a pet, and it was just as hard as I remember. Despite our best efforts, including months of waking in the middle of the night to let him out (because his kidneys could no longer hold fluids), trying to force the issue to flush his body of toxins by giving him daily subcutaneous fluids, and waging the ongoing battle against his waning appetite by finding new foods in which he might show an interest, his kidneys finally shut down last week. Rather than watch him slowly die of starvation (because he would eat no more) or dehydration (because he could barely hold down water), we chose to euthanize him in our home. My husband held him in his arms for probably the last 36 hours of Jake’s life.
What I’ll miss about Jake:
When something good happened and I just had to celebrate – I’d take him on a celebratory hike. He was always ready with a wag and a smile.
So Many More Ways
Whenever my husband went out of town, Jake would move from his dog bed to my husband’s side of the bed. Having a warm back to lie against always made me feel secure.
I’ll miss his protectiveness. From the day he moved in, he appointed himself the protector of the house and always had my back, even when we didn’t need it.
I’ll miss that he really was the perfect dog to walk with and the perfect dog to drive with. He matched your pace when you walked or ran. He never pulled ahead. He loved to ride in the car. Unlike Foley, Jake never cried or moaned about the speed or temperature or any sharp turns. He just sat back and enjoyed the ride. He was happy to go anywhere with me, from the library to the train station. It didn’t matter as long as we were together.
I’ll miss his welcoming nature. He had a warm greeting for whomever came through the front door, often falling at their feet to show his satisfaction.
I’ll miss his enthusiasm for food. He loved a good meal. It was especially sad when he got sick and stopped eating. Much of the joy seemed to have gone from his life.
The dog showed me that my husband is one of the best people in the world. Sometimes I resented his selfless devotion to making food for Jake, sorting his medication, and performing daily fluid therapy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. How wonderful to discover I am married to a man who is so kind to his pets that he would spend the day caring for them and then stay up all night catching up on work, giving up sleep in the process. I couldn’t have chosen a better caretaker for my pets or father for my son.
When we finally had to make a decision on whether to end his life, it was extremely difficult. It turns out that there are entire businesses dedicated to pet euthanasia and disposal (or preservation). I discovered that the worst job in the world wasn’t cleaning up crime scenes. It is ending the lives of dogs on a daily basis.
As I Googled, should I euthanize my dog, the answer most websites gave was sad. If you’re looking this up, they wrote, it is probably time. As hard as it was, and still is, I think it really was probably the right time. In his last days, Jake slept almost twenty hours. He’d stopped eating and appeared to be in constant discomfort.
Of course, every minute since he’s been gone, I’ve thought that maybe we should have waited a little longer. If I could have just one more minute, one more hour, one more day. But it probably wasn’t meant to be.
The last eight years were made brighter by Jake, and I’m just glad for all the other good advice he has to give, I didn’t listen to this particular recommendation from Uncle Matty. I followed my heart, and it was the right decision.
Rest in peace, Jake. We loved you, and love you still.
Jessica Gadsden has been controversial since the day she discovered her inner soapbox. She excoriated the cheerleaders on the editorial page of her high school paper, transferred from a co-educational university to a women's college to protest the gender-biased curfew policy, published a newspaper in law school that raked the dean over the coals with (among other things) the headline, “Law School Supports Drug Use”—and that was before she got serious about speaking out. Progressive doesn't begin to define her political views. A reformed lawyer, she is a fulltime novelist who writes under a pseudonym, of course. A Brooklyn native, she divided her college years between Hampton University and Smith.
Ms. Gadsden’s essays appear every other Tuesday. She may be contacted at www.pennermag.com
