I said goodbye to my sweet Jazzy on October 2nd and there's been a gaping hole in my heart ever since then. There will always be a spot for Jazzy reserved in my heart.
She was a rescue dog. Yes, Adam and I adopted her from a little shelter in the middle of Kansas, but Jazzy is the one who truly rescued me. I was still drowning in the sorrow of losing my first baby and the infertility that came afterwards when Jazzy entered our lives. Adam and I both desperately wanted a baby, but a human baby wasn't yet in the cards for us. So Jazzy became our baby.
While I don't quite understand why things work out the way they do, I do believe there's something bigger than us. The universe somehow brought Jazzy into our lives. I knew she was meant to be ours when I saw her picture online. Adam wasn't convinced until we visited her in person. As soon as we arrived at the shelter "just to look" at her, she trotted right up to Adam and gave him a big ol' kiss. Needless to say, we brought her home with us.
And she was perfect for us. She was just what I needed. Looking back, I was severely depressed and really should have gotten some professional therapy. But my therapy came in the form of Jazzy. I started taking her for daily walks, which meant exercise for me. She kept me company during a very lonely time. She helped me to focus on the joys in my life instead of just the pain. She helped me to welcome hope back into my life. I just cannot fully express what she did for me. She somehow knew when I needed extra snuggles or when I needed some comic relief. Staring into her soulful little eyes helped me heal.
Jazzy was such a good girl. She was eager to learn new tricks and to please us. She took it upon herself to be our guard dog and protector. She rarely barked, but did alert us if someone she wasn't familiar with came to our door or if another dog dared to come too close to us. She adored walks and her excitement for them was contagious. She was happy to walk around our neighborhood and loved the new smells trails offered her.
While Jazzy wasn't particularly close with Archer and Lyla, she knew her job was to protect them and she took it very seriously. She always greeted us when we came home from somewhere and wouldn't head back to her perch on the back of the couch until both kids were in the house. She put up with their incessant noise and activity in exchange for treats and bits of dropped food. She never showed any jealousy towards the kids, despite them taking over most of our attention. She was just as content to get a quick head scratch in passing.
She was such a good girl. The best girl.
Less than a year ago, Jazzy was diagnosed with congestive heart failure. She had always had a pretty prominent heart murmur, so we knew that congestive heart failure might be in her future. We started her on medications and she responded really well to them for quite awhile. Eventually, she maxed out on her medications and we knew it was time to start making plans so that her final days could be as comfortable as possible. I read a lot about how to determine when the time was right to help your pet end their life. Of course it's a gray area and ultimately you know your own pet best, but I read many accounts of people wishing they had made the decision earlier to eliminate suffering. Armed with that knowledge, we were able to make the difficult decision before Jazzy had to suffer for very long.
Adam came across an organization called Lap of Love. Lap of Love is a network of veterinarians all across the United States who offer in-home end-of-life care for pets. Once we knew it was time to end Jazzy's suffering, we contacted our local Lap of Love branch. Every person we spoke with was so thoughtful and helped us feel like we were making the right decision. The veterinarian who came to our home was so incredibly kind. I hope no one needs this service any time soon, but keep this organization in the back of your mind. Allowing Jazzy to pass peacefully in her own home where she felt most comfortable felt like such a gift for her and for us.
We made sure to give her the best day before her appointment. We took her to a trail, brought her dog bed outside in the driveway so she could enjoy the fresh air and got her a puppy scoop from our local ice cream shop. After a bittersweet final walk around our neighborhood, it was time for the veterinarian to arrive. Dr. Emily was so sweet to Jazzy and brought her lots of treats to enjoy. I wasn't really sure what to expect, but the whole experience was very calm and peaceful. Adam wrote and read Jazzy a letter which had all of us (Dr. Emily included) in tears. As sad as it was, there sure was a lot of love in the room.
Here's Adam's sweet letter:
Dear Jazzy,
I miss Jazzy so much. Our house feels so empty without her presence. She wove herself so tightly into our lives and there are so many times I find myself still thinking about her. I miss her little snores that would wake me up in the middle of the night and the way she would scoot her little body right next to mine in bed. (The bed Adam and I said she would never sleep in.) I miss the way she always seemed to know when I took out a pair of socks from my drawer and thought it was time for a walk. I miss her laying in the sunshine in our yard. I miss her toenails prancing along our floors. I miss her crunching her dog food. I miss her excitement when I opened up the bag of her favorite treat. I miss her warm greetings whenever I came home. I miss her rolling around on her back when she thought she needed some attention. I miss her help in cleaning up all the crumbs under our kitchen table.When Sara and I left our house on December 13, 2014, with the intention of “just looking” I had no idea I’d be finding my very best friend. The moment we saw one another, you trotted across that dog haired matted couch we sat on at the shelter and gave me a nice kiss right on the face. I knew Sara was hooked from that moment (I was too), my only reservations were how much hair you left all over me after sitting in my lap for such a short time (you were just nervous).
We’re so glad you took a chance on us; we are so lucky to have spent the last nearly 7 years of our lives with you. You helped us both out of the darkness of unexpectedly losing our first unborn daughter. And later the unexpected death of our friend Tim. You were there to graciously greet your newborn brother and sister four years ago, even if it meant stepping out of the primary spotlight. Please know that you’ll always be our first baby.
We will miss your unconditional love and affection. Your excitement of when one of us has come home from the office or even a short errand. We will miss your excitement every time we pull your leash down for your next adventure. I will miss our late-night outings and runs. I will miss walking and running you while pushing your siblings in every kind of buggy imaginable the last 4 years, no matter how tricky that might be. I will miss your unwavering interest in the outdoor hikes we’ve taken around here. Thank you for exploring with us. I will miss you snuggling with Sara and I and despite your size somehow taking over the queen size bed.
There’s so much more we wish we had time to do and so much I regret not finding time to do so. But I realize that no one can divide their time enough, you just do the best you can. The regret / guilt we might feel just means we care for you so much.
You’ve done so much to help heal, serve and protect this family. You’ve given so much to everyone you’ve known (even cleaning up a dead mouse in my Dad’s basement yesterday). As gut-wrenching as it may be, it’s time for us to return the favor and help you along as peacefully as we can.
We love you so much and if there is a heaven, I know you’ll be there waiting for us. So, till we meet again my friend.
Love you always and forever,
Adam and Sara
