On December 31, 2010 my heart dog Jojo left this life. He was diagnosed with lymphoma and, when it became clear that he faced nothing but more suffering, his family elected to have him euthanized. You can read about Jojo in the first entry in this blog. Let it suffice here simply to say that he and I had a very close and very special relationship.
He came as a puppy to my daughter Kelly and her family at Christmastime in 2003. At the time my grandchildren, Hannah and Jordan, were in elementary school and it was my pleasure to go to their house in the morning and help them get ready for school after their parents went to work. I made sure Jojo got a good long walk and, as often as not, took him spend the day with me until it came time to meet the afternoon school bus. He spent at least as much time with me as he did with his family.
I realized he was a very special dog when, as a pup, he watched me replace a kitchen faucet. I had cleared out all the cleaning supplies under the sink and was lying on my back, half in/half out of the cabinet, balancing a flashlight while fiddling with the plumbing connections. Jojo walked into the cabinet and sat down beside my head and looked up at what I was doing. He would watch my work for a bit, then look down at me, then back up at the plumbing. He showed such intelligence and curiosity that I found myself explaining to him what I was doing. There we were, as my son Brady later said, me with my "micro manager" fixing the plumbing.
Jojo was the smartest dog in the world and, when he approached doggie puberty, became quite headstrong. I asked Kelly if I could take him to obedience training and for six weeks we spent Thursday nights learning how to behave...both of us. Our instructor, Shade Whitesel, showed Jojo and me how to work together instead of butting heads, and Jojo became a very cooperative and gentle companion. We went on to complete an intermediate course in obedience with Shade, and then Hannah and I took Jojo and Elky (my Cardi who had joined us by then) through a beginning agility class.
I had the opportunity to spend the better part of a day with Jojo and Hannah before his death. He came to me and let me brush him and love on him, and it was clear that he didn't have much time left: he was weak, but still bright eyed and affectionate. I lay on the floor with him and just loved him, and my tears flowed.
A Buddhist monk once told me that animals can be great teachers. I learned from Jojo the joy of giving and receiving unconditional love, and to pay more attention to others' needs. Jojo confirmed for the the value of enthusiasm, pure enthusiasm at being alive. Knowing him has made me a better person, of this I am absolutely sure. I grieve his loss and am profoundly grateful that he came into my life. With Jojo there is no unfinished business: he lived and we loved like a clean bright flame.
