Jesse (1999-2011)

If it’s true that dog-heaven and people-heaven are in fact, the same place…..(dear God, let’s hope so)…..then I’m sure that Nancy Clark met you at the far side of that distant bridge, with her red tricycle and a fresh box of Milk Bones.  Sweet Jesse…..thank you for seeing us through these past ten difficult years. You were ever-present, solid, always panting slowly, smiling. You were gleeful – so often, and took such delight in the tiniest-of-nothing kinds of things – a ride in the truck, sitting in the sun, laying in the creek. You’d sit like Grandma in the back seat of the car, staring straight ahead, patient for whatever might come next.

One day last spring, you sat in the backyard under that big maple tree, and tiny baby squirrels began tumbling out of a hole in the tree, rolling and landing at your feet. And you took them each between your big paws, licking them, caring for them, one after another. Twenty minutes later, Zip came out, and SNAP, TWO-THREE-FOUR, they were all dead, but you would have raised them yourself, gentle babysitter.

I’m not sure how all this happened. I went to St. Louis on Friday, Kevin moved us into the new place in Bozman on Saturday and Sunday, and within 10 hours of my arrival home Monday night, nothing even unpacked yet, you collapsed on the bathroom floor. That dumb tiny bathroom with the irritating clawfoot tub……you laid there panting hard, and we held you. All of us, sitting in that stupid little bathroom, loving you, watching your eyes go dim. Wondering – what the hell happened? On Saturday, Kevin said you galloped happily with the other dogs in the yard. And Zip now, freaking out. Ach, my heart.

I know that sending you off was the right kind of love, and appreciate the vet’s gentle hand as he softly patted you goodbye. But I can’t stop the tears, which keep pouring out of me, through my eyes, from my depths. Everything sweet – the sound of the chickadee, the glide of the finch across the yard, the taste of the breakfast cantaloupe – every sweet thing reminds me of you. I cry and ache. You gave so much.

Well, I do believe that death returns us to our pure, positive energy whole-self. I’ll look for you, Jesse – in the gull’s glide, the barn swallow’s spin and the soft gentle wind over the marsh. I hope you fly like an eagle, move across this world and gallop like you used to, so free and happy. When my heart fills and sings, when I taste sweetness and feel love, I’ll remember you.

My memories of you are gold, diamonds and rubies. Thank you, my sweet friend. Farewell.

~ by kbosin on May 12, 2011.

11 Responses to “Jesse (1999-2011)”

  1. What a beautiful tribute to Jesse. It brought tears to my eyes. I miss her from St. Louis and my heart aches for all of you.

  2. Oh Kathy and Kevin,
    Jesse was such a love. Our hearts break for you. Your words were beautiful – she knew she was loved by many. Now poor Zip. We’re thinking about you all.

  3. Jessie of the smiling face. Godspeed, sister Jessie. I told Rachel this morning and she said “I bet Otis was waiting for her in heaven”. Hope so. Love you.

  4. Jesse was a priceless gift. Our heartfelt thoughts are with you. Love Pat & Rich

  5. Oh no, not Jesse! My heart goes out to you and Kevin. What a beautiful, beautiful dog.

  6. Soooo sorry to hear about Jesse. Thinking about you all.

  7. I’ve met quite a few dogs during my years, and I can honestly say that Jesse was among the kindest and gentlest I’ve ever known. If heaven admits animals, Jesse is surely there. Maybe she’s nurturing the baby squirrels even now.

  8. A lovely, tear-inducing farewell to a beautiful and gentle soul. My heart aches for you as you mourn your beloved Jesse.

  9. Our hearts go out to you both. So sorry for your loss

  10. I cannot speak, I don’t know what to type. The wind just went out of my sails. I look at that smiling face and remember the unloved dog standing at my back fence with half a pizza in her mouth. How happy I was the day I freed her from the pound and you agreed to be her caregiver. Sigh. My sweet Jesse. Running free over the rainbow bridge. I’m gonna go be really sad and quiet now.

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