Joe

Today’s my Joe’s 16th birthday. I’ve already taken him for the birthday walk and plan to get him a lovely beef rib at the butcher’s later today. I’ve had him since he was 6 weeks.

When my wasband (rhymes with husband, it’s my hairdresser’s term) moved out, A. was 10 and M. was 4. It was time for a dog. Basically, I swapped one Capricorn for another.

A. wanted a golden retriever, M. wanted a poodle. Believe it or not, Joe was a compromise. When I drove up to Milt’n (I won’t share any Milt’n jokes here, but real Vermonters know them well) to fetch Joe, it was early March and there was still plenty of snow on the ground. I drove way out over winding roads through East B*mF*ck, feeling like I was going deep into some hole I might never return from. I did — with Joe. It was a toss between him and his sister — a black and white version of him.

I do wish I’d gotten her, too, and had I realized female dogs can be easier than male dogs, I might have brought her home instead of Joe. (I also learned that an only dog can be a lonely dog). But no, I brought the Joemeister home.

A beagle mix with some tawny golden spots (if I stretched my imagination) and he was half poodle — if you can believe it. Apparently, around the time he and his sibs were conceived, his beagle mom had been spied cavorting with a poodle. I believe in the poodle dad for all the times I’ve caught him jumping up at the counter to pull various treats down (birthday cakes for one), or on the dinner table getting into the butter. When I took him to the vet the first time, I was told “he isn’t a highly trainable dog, but he’s got a lot of love to give.” Got that right. He does. We could learn so much from dogs.

Even people who aren’t dog people end up loving Joe, he’s such a personality. When my cousin, an avowed cat lover, visits, she gushes “Jo-oooo-e, isn’t he cute?” (the first time she said that was shortly after the table incident with the butter — and that was when he was about 14). The dog ate my homework excuse? Teachers, please, that could very well be true.

Needless to say, as he ages, I have had some scares (I really thought he was on his way out this past fall), but lately he’s been as gung-ho crazy as ever. There’s a blog I occasionally visit, and the first time I did, Michelle was worried about her 15 year old pooch, Duncan — it was around the same time I had my Joe scares.

I don’t know how I ended up on her blog yesterday, but I was sad to see Duncan was gone. I don’t believe there really is any one word big enough for the big feelings of deep love and deep loss. So I’m not even going to try — but sweet, crazy Joe — here’s to you, pal! may we have another good year.

Author: Dame

an evolving story, wanting to live a slower life right here and now...reconnections, new connections, and now connections are my passion...phone calls, tea dates and letters preferred over emails... View all posts by Dame