“Jazz is a Spirit”

Four weeks ago my best friend died.  There is no real way for me to know what happens when life leaves the body, but what I do know is that the only one who can really help me cope with the loss of my best buddy is he, himself.

While I am thankful to have loved ones who support me during this difficult time, and an understanding team at the office and even strangers who offer their hugs or hands to hold, it seems that each day is a little harder than the last.

When I was 16 and had just suffered the loss of my toy poodle Lelu before she had even turned three, I received a male puppy who we picked up at the airport (Air Canada Jazz) and he became aptly named Jazz.  Dad selected it because he had been listening to Jazz music at the time, and this was a fitting title for a little black poodle.  This helped with the loss of my previous dog, he fit right into my world like a glove.  He was like a real-life teddy bear and I told him often how lucky a girl like me must be to have a constant cuddly companion like him.  He was so excited to wake up every day, and would just wait for me to open my eyes each morning.

Of course we all know that life on earth is not permanent.  There are stories and poems about the rainbow bridge, and about why the life of a dog is so much shorter than that of a human, because us humans need time to learn what dogs already know: how to love.  Those are touching to hear, and cool the sting of loss a little bit – but nothing really helps.  That one true friend who stood by my side for every single low and high, rain or shine, is not going to be waiting at home for me when I  get home from work.  He will never be on my pillow to say good morning, or goodnight, again.  When friends would come and go, family might have falling out, health or work may bring upheaval but amidst all that was always the calm center of my world, Jazz. For as much as I wish health and happiness to all humans, (those who know me describe me as friendly and outgoing) I most enjoy laying low, without the company of people but instead the constant presence of my closest friend, my loyal poodle.

Life may not be permanent but love is eternal.  To me the true meaning of love is acceptance, which we can find in our furry friends because our dogs will never try to change us.  A pet thinks (and knows) you are an amazing person and will not judge your shortcomings like humans can.  Many people strive to achieve non-judgement and unconditional acceptance but the sheer nature of human interaction (moods, schedules, effort, boundaries etc.) makes even the most patient and peaceful people require solitude.  Dogs (and cats I am told) see us at our worst, broken and blue but just want to be near and protect.  At 7lbs, Jazz was an intuitive little pal, who would stick to me like glue when I had many a sprained ankle, torn ACL, and was always there for me if I had a hard day, week, month or year… I love that guy!  He would lay on my abdomen or pillow when I was in need of warmth and closeness.  He just knew, without us ever saying a word to each other.

Over the years I moved and changed,  I have been poor, away from home for long hours, or injured and immobile, and inconsistent in ways.  He saw me from my teens through my twenties and into my thirties.  That little guy met and was liked by many people and pets.  Jazz rolled with the punches and kept me going always.  We have been on long walks and boat rides, he would jog with me at a comfortable pace when he and I were both younger and more agile (hah)!  We have been up late and slept in,  and we have been on walks that were not so long at all because he was tired or stiff. As time went on he would not wait for me to wake up, but instead I would wait for him to be ready to open his eyes and start the day.  We learned not to wake him up if he was having a solid snooze and just follow his cues instead, let sleeping dogs lay, eh?  He started to take his time but still always remained happy, excited, zestful and comfortable.  Some of my favorite memories include the look on his face especially when giving side-eye, the way he rolled around with glee rubbing his face and wolly body around, cozy grunting and or snoring sounds, how he bounced through the snow, his fussy way of eating food only off a flat surface and not from a dish LOL and how he would be pressed against me but try to get even closer by lifting only his butt and scootching up to be even more pressed against me.  Dad would make chicken for him each day around 5pm – and the dog grew to demand this from him with insistent barks, but he was otherwise not a terribly vocal dog.  Dad would also take Jazz for back-pack bike rides which was a pleasure for both of them.  My boyfriend would clear snow paths to make getting around in winter more easy, and has also brought the dog and I for several hikes, canoe rides and trips to the camp on the lake.  Jazz really relished in this and it made the end of his life more soothing for him and for us.  For a small dog he had the biggest personality and the biggest presence, making it so hard to be without him.  He was such a funny guy who could make anyone and everyone smile, so I at least take comfort in looking back at all the pleasant and even hilarious memories he has given me.  Other favorite memories lay in what I learned through him.  That tiny king really taught me to slow down not just for him but also for myself.  Jazz helped me learn to listen to my body and do what it is asking, do not rush, just go easy.  He still teaches me that!  Even though I cannot come home to find him sleeping in his couch-nest and bring him outside to lay in the grass (because he stopped taking walks around the block but enjoyed the outdoors nonetheless) he is always reminding me to treat myself and others gently.

The day his life ended there was some relief for him and for me because no longer did we have to worry if he would be okay, fall down, struggle.. etc.  I know his senses had been diminishing over time but he adapted well and never seemed to mind.  He also grew closer, but I thought maybe he would stop eating for a long while, show difficulty breathing, or become ill and need medical care as he continued to age and potentially suffer.  But no, he just went.  For that I am grateful.  Gratitude can provide comfort but it doesn’t replace a loved one.

Since he has been gone, the odd food pebble or small curly lock will surface, I look at photos, videos, talk about him and to him every day.  Several times each day I think I can hear him getting up, it is time for me to go check on him.  It is time for his food now.  I wonder if he is warm enough, and all that jazz. Recently I was listening to the radio and the man said ..from the album “Jazz is a spirit”!  It felt like he was talking to me, even if it is only coincidence.  At the shelter two cats were available for adoption named Savannah and Jazzy – what are the odds?  On Jeopardy one night last week the correct response was “Jazz” to which I stated, I knew jazz would be on Jeopardy soon, but I thought a whole category not just a question.  It was a strong and certain feeling I had.  Would you believe me if I told you the very next episode had a category “JAZZ”?  Believe me.  Jazz is nowhere and jazz is everywhere.

I did not know it was his final Saturday when we spent some time outside enjoying the summer day, he napped a lot these days and did so that day in the shade.  In the afternoon he was not himself – and on Sunday he was gone.  He was at home on my bed with me and my father while we watched him take his last breath, and just the day before that he was a happy dog.  So, I could not ask for a better life with Jazz and I could not ask for a better death with him either.  He showed me what he needed so that I could help him be comfortable, and we were together until the end.  We still are.  He was my whole life for half my life and I will keep talking to him and thanking him for his unconditional love.