...ode to my jola-pants...
yesterday i alluded to my seven years ago mess. when i got out of that mess, about november of that year, i got a puppy. this puppy was going to be my girl, it was going to be she and i against the world. my puppy was going to grow up big and fierce and protect me from the bad guys; she was going to play with me and entertain me and love me unconditionally. she was going to make me laugh and bring me joy and help me transform into a responsible, loving person.
this puppy, her name was jola (a combination of joy, and laughter).
jola was 8 weeks old when i got her, and she was supposed to be a rottweiler/lab mix. i was hoping she would grow up to be big and scary. jola came with worms, big tape worms that distended her belly and crawled out of her nether regions while she was sleeping and made her hair fall out. she was tiny, this jola. barely the size of a football when i got her. she was playful, and fun. she had a rambunctious, stubborn spirit that, little did i know, would cause me hours of agonizing when she ran away.
jola is my girl: it was her and i against the world. we left my mom's in parker and moved out on our own. then we moved back in, and finally out again. we moved around, finally settling into spruce street a few years ago. we bought another puppy that we thought would mesh with her, but ended up not: myla came and went, but jo was my girl. she didn't grow up to be big and fierce (no rottweiler in sight. her head is now so small {pin-head i call her} that i have to buy her a special collar- made for greyhounds- because she can wriggle right out of the fitted collar). but she protected me from bad guys, weird guys and girls, people that looked different, people that smelled different, sometimes just people walking down the street. jola didn't play much- she was much too snotty for that whole 'fetch' thing, but man that girl loved me. she would lay on my bed with me, with her head on my feet and sigh. she would wag her tail every day when she saw me and she would run with me, train with me, walk with me. she kept me company and listened and let me cry into her fur when my heart broke or my anger bubbled into tears. she made me laugh when she danced and pawed and ate funny things and wore doggy-booties. she brought me joy everyday, and taught me how to be responsible and giving and loving and sharing.
i said goodbye to jola yesterday.
now, don't worry: she's still alive, healthy and happy, but she lives with my mom now. my husband to be is deathly allergic to dogs, and well, it's really hard to work 60 hours a week at two jobs, plan a wedding, take care of myself and my fiance, and take care of a puppy too. so to honor her love for life and her need for love, affection, and care, my mom's house (her 'vacation home') has now become her permanent home, and i have slid into the role of fun dog-aunt.
there are many silver linings to letting her go that will come with time, and deep down i am happy overall with my decision, but right now, for right now, i am sad. sad, sad, sad.
dear jola, i will miss your face. your fur. your four little paws and your stretching every time i come home and the way you always bring me your treat after a long day, like you want to show me what you found. the way you crack run after a bath and the way you prance when you want to get your way. the way you lick my bible-study girls' foods right off the table, and the way you bark when someone comes by. i will miss you cleaning my floors and keeping me warm and listening to me without interrupting. i will miss your puppy eyed face in the mornings and at night, and your funny little torn ear that flops when you're ready for a walk.
and i will come visit.
love, your mom.
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