I love Jazz. I have a large collection of vintage Jazz albums that were curated by my dad. I also have multiple playlists of digital Jazz music which I play to create the desired mood. Jazz is cool, rad, and snazzy.
But, I’m not going to talk about Jazz music here. I’m talking about a different Jazz. Jazz, our family member. Jazz, our dog.
About 14 years ago, our friends rescued a little black dog and her identical twin sister from a busy highway. They brought the puppies home, cleaned them up, and fed them. A few days later, I set my eyes on the goofy little puppies, and that was all she wrote. I wanted one. Rob was skeptical, questioning whether we needed another dog, but, once I get an idea in my head, well ain’t no stoppin’ me.
I brought one of the puppies to our house for a quick test run to see if she would get along with our dog Zelly. That visit was completely ridiculous. There was no animosity between the dogs, so she passed that test. But, before I picked her up, she had spent the day playing hard with her little sister. Running, tackling, rolling down hills. All out tumble-fest. She was exhausted. When she got to our house, the puppy had no energy. She couldn’t stand up. Literally. I placed her down on the floor, her legs gave away, then she collapsed onto the floor. We tried again and again, but every time we tried to get her to stand or walk, she crumbled, like a fainting Southern Belle. It was more amusing than concerning. A few days later, she joined the family. We named her Jazz.
Jazz was a speedy fast dog. She was quite the athlete. She could catch just about any critter that wandered into our yard. She loved to race up and down our big hill. She loved to chase. But, she could never figure out how to play ball or catch Frisbees. She didn’t understand retrieve and return. She loved to run and follow primal instinct. But, she couldn’t grasp the rules of organized play.
See, when the Good Lord passed out brains, Jazz was definitely in the back of the line. The way, way back. She got what was left at the bottom of the barrel.
Jazz was Spatially Challenged. According to Healthline.com, “Spatial Awareness refers to your ability to be aware of objects in space and your body’s position in relation to them.” As far as Spatial Awareness went, Jazz had no clue. She always had trouble understanding how big her body was and how small spaces were. She was forever getting stuck in small spaces head first. She couldn’t figure out how to back herself out. If there was a piece of furniture or a person or anything positioned something like 2 inches away from the wall, with the rest of the room being completely open, rather than walk across the room like a normal being, she would try to cram herself through the 2 inch opening. It was uncanny how often she would misjudge the area in front of her or choose the tightest path. What are you doing, Jazz??!! We constantly had to re-direct her through everyday activities. She was not a problem-solver.
When Jazz joined our family we already had a 4-legged beast named Zelly. Zelly was a high-strung ball of nerves, a Blue-Tick Coon-Hound/Pointer mix. Zelly was neurotic and nervous and noisy. Zelly was lead dog. But, you can imagine how it goes when the leader is a complete disaster. There were about 8 years of canine chaos as Jazz lived in the shadow of Zelly.
Zelly would bark if a pin dropped, so Jazz would follow suit. All of Jazz’s bad habits she learned from Zelly. Except for eating poop. That was all Jazz. Her favorite snack being Poop Du Jour. Zelly had a loud piercing hound dog bark, which an annoyed neighbor actually measured on a decibel sound meter. Can’t remember what her bark scored on the meter, it was up there pretty high; but the point was that the neighbor threatened un-neighborly behavior if we didn’t get her barking under control. As if we could. The dog who closed her eyes tight and barked as hard as she could for as long as she could to empty the citronella spray bark collar. That's a tool designed to stop incessant barking. Zelly outsmarted it by suffering through a few minutes of discomfort so that she could bark freely afterwards. That dog was in the front of the handing-out-brains-to-canines line. She had calculating and deducing skills.
On a typical day at home, Zelly would tear across the backyard, running up to the fence to bark feverishly at whatever caught her attention on the other side. Jazz would good naturedly run beside her and join in the barking. Zelly would immediately take offense and turn on Jazz, barking madly and chasing her away. After all, it was Zelly’s responsibility to call out the dangers of unwelcomed intruders. Not Jazz’s job. One of many behaviors that Zelly used to put Jazz into her place. And so it went, for years. Zelly exerting her dominance over Jazz. Showing Jazz what was what. Jazz complied, accepting the hierarchy.
Zelly crossed the rainbow bridge in 2017. Our vet cautioned us that Jazz would probably go through a period of mourning for losing her friend. Let me tell you, there was no mourning.
We really didn’t realize how much Jazz had been tormented by Zelly until Zelly passed on and we met the new Jazz. Jazz who was free to be herself. Jazz’s adorable personality emerged. She became a wonderful pet, always wanting to be part of things, striving to please us. Still goofy, still challenged in her many ways, but a really fun, sweet pet. She came into her own. She was a joy to have around.
But, now It comes full circle. As a 14 year old, Jazz’s legs are betraying her again. Arthritis and joint disease make it more and more difficult for her to stand, walk, or move. She collapses repeatedly. She forgets where she is. We watch with sadness as she struggles to make it through the day. She has spurts of spunk, but less and less often. The mind is willing, but the body is weak.
Much like pet owners everywhere, we don’t want her to suffer. I suspect she is masking some of the pain. You can see the tiredness in her eyes. But, you also see her determination to continue being a Good Dog. She wants to please. Her spirit is dimming, but it’s still flickering.
So here we are. Our vet expects us to make the call anytime now. We are waiting for the signal that the bad outweighs the good. That it’s just too hard to carry on. And we are cuddling, and reassuring our Jazzy that everything will be alright. We are lovin' on Jazz. I’m not crying, you’re crying.