Greyhound Adoption in Puget Sound, Washington and British Columbia
Dearly missed by Cathy, Jack, Mike, Sam and Dan Munro
Daughter of Wigwam Wag and Granddaughter of Dutch Bahama, Jae (pronounced “Jay”) was a confident, fun girl who cockroached more than any dog I’ve ever met. Toby, the dog we often dog sit, is a close second. We’ve fostered between 50 to 75 dogs over the years (I’ve truly lost count) so we’ve seen a few. None of them cockroached as often as she did.
Jae’s race name was SA Jae. Her tattoos led us to find out that she was a littermate of Gable Sarah with four other siblings. We’ve corresponded with Sarah’s owner over the years. The connections these greyhounds give us are never less than amazing sometimes.
Jae broke her leg in a training run and never raced. Her left front leg was crooked as a result of treating it with vet wrap casts. I truly believe that the trainer did what she could. Jae survived to go on and experience retired life and true love. We were told over the years that she might get arthritis in her leg but it was osteosarcoma that claimed her leg and her life in the end. Jae also battled tick disease from the time we adopted her at Houndraiser on October 15, 2000 until the day she died.Â No matter what we did, her Ehrlichia titer didn’t clear. Â For a time, we thought that perhaps we were dealing with an Ehrlichia induced bone infection. A last ditch effort of a heavy dose of Doxycycline was started but it didn’t help. We’d like to thank John and Lorean Love for all the help, advice, good info and especially for their tick testing clinics over the years to monitor how she was doing. The Loves often told me that were it not for tick testing Jae over the years and her various treatments, we
would have lost her much sooner.
We have so many wonderful memories associated with Jae, I won’t take up space here talking about them all. She liked to gently walk up your body when invited, drape both front legs over your shoulders and gently give kisses. She had ESP too. She’d sit for a treat before you’d think of giving one to her. 🙂 She sat and stared adoringly at Midge Moore at Country Village (twice, on two different occasions) while she ate her sandwich, hoping for a handout. I don’t think Jae blinked or got out of her sit position until the last bite of sandwich disappeared, or Midge finished handing Jae bits of her sandwich.
Jae was diagnosed with osteosarcoma on July 6, 2006. She nearly made it six months and could have gone longer but she was giving us signs that she was ready to go. Since the famous windstorm and blackout on December 14th, her condition had declined. Her limp got worse and her confidence seemed a bit off as far as her place in the pack. She would wait for all the dogs to go inside before she would come in to avoid running into them. She was changing beds quite often at night. Even though she wouldn’t complain, I had a feeling that she was in pain and was having problems getting comfortable. Modern day pain medication is wonderful and it certainly helped her but we couldn’t live with ourselves if she broke her leg and the dogs packed her. It was better for her to leave us with dignity.
We had the good fortune to have six months to say a long goodbye to Jae. She walked with me every day right up to the day before we let her go. Oh, the walks got shorter as time went by. Sometimes, I had to give her a treat to get her out of the driveway. As I think back on it, I think I taught her it was good to stop walking so she could get a treat rather than encouraging her to walk. 🙂 Maybe the owner wasn’t very smart afterall. During our walks, I was always amused at how her limp would go away when she saw a squirrel.
Go in peace, sweet Jae. Thank you for all the lessons we learned through your life and for living and dying with grace and dignity.
Here’s a poem I worked on periodically through the last six months.
Osteosarcoma totally sucks
It creeps into your mind
By robbing your friends of their beloved greys
And leaving many broken hearts behind
Until its tentacles reaches into your soul
And takes your very best friend
You find that it’s like the devil
With their sole purposes intertwined
It’s deeply cruel when it’s slow and lingers
Leaving you good days along with the bad
And your stoic dog rarely whimpers
You wonder, what kind of a day she’s had
The walks get shorter and more slow
Is she doing it to please me or does she still enjoy it?
How will I know to let go?
Oh, how I hate this slow motion skit
On walks, it’s amazing how the limp disappears
When sighting a cat or a squirrel
Leaving you false hope and tears
But also a moment’s marvel
Is she afraid her pack status will diminish
As she looks around before making a move
Is keeping her with us being mulish?
Except when it’s time, she has nothing to prove
When is it time to say good-bye?
Not when she levitates raised feeders in search of food
Not when she sneaks up on the males on the sly
And unfurls all kinds of mischief spewed
They tell me I’ll know when it’s time
If she’s talking to me, it has to be louder
As always, the trip to the Bridge is onetime
I’m not looking forward to receiving her collar
With your crooked leg and all you endured
With your confident soul and funny ways
Your place in my heart is forever assured
You will be in my thoughts always
Jae, I love you.
In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. ~ Paul McCartney