Click the picture to see photos of Jaspy. Scroll down to read a bit of his story.
I am very sad to let you all know that our beloved dog, Jasper, my constant companion for almost 14 years, died on Monday, October 23, 2006. I’ll probably be updating his photo album for a while as we discover more and more old photos on ancient hard drives and in boxes of non-digital photos.
Jasper was a wonderful dog who very much enriched my life, Dan’s, and those
of all his friends, human or canine. He really did not have any feline friends
as most of his involvement with them involved them running for dear life and
him following very enthusiastically. That was pretty much his relationship with
deer and elk, too. In his later years, Jasper gave up his beloved snow and moved
to Arizona. There, he gave up big game to chase birds, protecting the bougainvillea
whose dead branches he was busy importing into the house attached to various
parts of his body.
My late ex-husband, Ron, didn’t want to get another dog after Gretel died.
He said we worked too much to have time for a dog. I said that there were so
many dogs without homes that any dog would be happy to have a good home with
us and our yard to patrol. When he was away on a business trip, I went to see
my friend, Frances, and brought Jasper home with me. Ron came home from his trip
early and surprised me at home. He thought the growling coming from my studio
was a strange sound and entered the room to fall instantly in love with Jasper.
I was hanging on to the dog by his ruff because he didn’t even have a collar
yet and I had no idea who was entering the house! He was a thick-coated, scared
little guy who looked like a heraldic lion. Whoever would have thought that this
funny little Cocker Spaniel/Golden Retriever mixed breed dog would grow to be
so beautiful?
Jasper was a stray that followed a friend’s husband home from jogging one
day. They already had 7 dogs and he really wanted to be an only dog. I needed
a dog, so Frances and Mike gave Jasper to me. He had a coat so thick that you
couldn’t dig your fingers through it to find skin. After all, he’d
just lived through the coldest winter in Ohio history living in the woods and
then in an outdoor dog crate insulated with bales of straw on Frances’ porch.
The first time I saw him, he saw me looking at him, flattened himself on the
ground and piddled. He was terrified of men, especially. I wondered what I was
getting myself into, but took the dog crate Frances offered and loaded them both
into my Trooper. In the next twenty miles, he proceeded to throw up about three
times. I took him to my mother-in-law’s house, cleaned the crate and the
car, cleaned up the dog, and laid on the floor with him for a couple of hours,
chatting with Hilda and soothing the dog by talking to him softly and stroking
his fur while he laid stretched out against me on the floor. By the time we left,
we were thoroughly bonded and I was smart enough not to put him back in the dog
crate for the rest of the ride home.
Despite that first experience, Jasper turned out to be a great car traveler.
He loved getting into the Jeep and going anywhere with me. When we moved from
Dayton, Ohio to Bailey, Colorado, every half hour or so as we drove across the
country he stood up in the back seat and draped his head over my shoulder. He’d
give me a sniff in the ear and a lick on the cheek, or just rest his chin on
my shoulder for a minute, so I’d know he was always there for me. And he
was. When we moved from Bailey to Phoenix, he climbed up into the U-Haul truck
and spent most of the trip between my feet on the floor.
Jasper devoted his life to guarding me. He always slept between me and the door.
When I worked at home, he was at my feet. When I watched TV, he made sure to
lie near the door but also close enough to the TV that I’d be able to look
at my beautiful dog whenever I needed to. If someone came near, he stood between
them and me and barked. Until they got too close and scared him. Then he stood
behind me, peeking out from between my knees, still letting them know in no uncertain
terms that his mommy was going to stop them. Despite his busy schedule as the
king of Crow Hill in Bailey, Colorado, I was the #1 undisputed center of his
existence. When my ex-husband, Ron, was packing his truck to leave after coming
to Colorado to visit us, Jasper determinedly got into Ron’s truck and refused
to get out. When I told him that I wasn’t going, he got out of the truck
and sat at my feet to say good bye to Ron.
Jaspy – or Mr. Dapper Dog, a name he got from his favorite little girl,
Anna, who couldn’t pronounce her Js and Ss properly when she was tiny -
had to give up his mountain-top lifestyle to move to Arizona with me. He had
especially loved snow and would rather go outside to eat snow than to drink water
out of his bowl. In fact, he would curl up into a tiny ball in the spring to lay in the last patch of snow until it melted or he ate it all! He was protective of those he loved. He went after a bigger
dog who ran up to Anna too fast, and again, when the dog went over to his little
friend, Tinker, a Maltese, and Jaspy’s best pal, he had the other dog flipped
over on her back begging for mercy. When he was older, he was attacked by a pit
bull, which embarrassed him a lot. It took him a long time to get over that.
Though I’m sure his attitude would have been different if the kids and
the little dogs had been outside at the time. It took him a long time to get
over the time the groomer shaved all his hair off too. He was a sensitive guy.
He made a few new friends here in Arizona, but mostly he relaxed and devoted
his life to making sure that Dan and I always were welcomed home enthusiastically.
He enjoyed having two humans to fuss over him. He could be such a nutty dog.
He liked to bounce around the house, especially if we chased him or let him chase
us. After the vet put him on Rimadyl, he bounced around again. When he lost his
hearing, the high-pitched squeal of the burglar alarm let him know that mommy
was home. And if I wasn’t, he whined until I got home! We miss him a lot.
He was the best dog that ever was.
For the last couple of years, I’ve half-jokingly said that I hold my breath
every time I come in the door. On Monday night, it wasn’t a joke any more.
He had a good, long life and I’m glad that I was able to make it the best
dog’s life that I could. He went from being an unwanted, abused stray who
had probably been dumped in the rural Ohio countryside, to being a pampered dog
who was loved by everyone who ever met him. We certainly loved him and we know
that many of you did too.