The kids and I had a sad and surreal Monday night. Our oldest dog Jewel, our tiny rat terrier, died…just out of the blue. She was fine the day before and, overnight…just died quietly. Her little body went cold, her eyes glazed over, and she just passed away.
We knew she was getting old, but I guess we were in denial. She was fragile but otherwise fine. She had enjoyed her portions of Thanksgiving turkey, like always. And, yes, she had lived on mostly all dogfood, not too much in table scraps. She was just now happy and running around earlier in the week.
I’ll have to admit that, in her later years, she was a bit more reclusive and liked the quiet. She was a nipper if the younger dog wanted to bark and play, or if the kids or I tried to move her to go outside some days. And it was cold on Monday.
I feel sad she’s not here anymore as my once-constant companion around the house while I worked, while I cooked, while I cleaned. In the past couple of years, she was aging and so became pretty much sole property of my daughter, as she had become a one-person dog and quite temperamental. Sissy was the only one willing to defend Jewel’s bad behavior on most days toward the end.
Still, Juju and I had our own silent exchanges throughout each day while everyone was gone, communicating mostly through eye contact, and she seemed to thrive on that mutual understanding and my quiet gestures, especially when it came to sneaking a treat while the other dogs were being too loud and busy.
My mind keeps playing tricks on me. I hear her little paws clicking on the floor as I wash. I keep catching her in my peripheral vision, peeking around the doorframe of the hallway. I know she just walked past and brushed my legs as I was working. I would swear I hear her lapping water in the kitchen. But she’s not there.
We gently placed her inside a little box and lovingly buried her by the house. Still, it seems she deserved more. This was, after all, the dog who stood guard by my youngest as a baby. We will carve a little piece of wood this weekend to put on her grave, that says simply “Ra Ruh Roo.” Sounds silly saying it now, but we would say “I love you” to her, and that was what she would howl — no, scream as only toy-sized dogs can — back to us as her “I love you.”
A good pet lends so much to its owners’ quality of life, especially children, simply by sticking close, spontaneously cuddling up and even begging, offering a cold-nosed nudge when we’re down. They make a house feel like a home. They offer comfort, warmth, and are part of happy childhood memories. Without her, our usual housework, cooking, homework feel just blah. It’s a great pet that makes us realize that it truly is the little things in life that matter.
We’re going to miss you, Juju…yes, even the nips and growls. Rest in peace, girl. And ra ruh rooooooo-oooo-oooo! Gosh, we’re going to miss that.
