Jules

July 27, 2007 | Filed Under Main |

This is my dog – Jules. This picture was taken in 2004, probably right after a grooming. Jules was rescued from the ASPCA when my son was 5 and Jules was 1. Chris named him “Jules” (approximately) because of the diamond of white fur on his forehead. This is my first dog as an adult. My responsibility. My friend.

This is Jules now. Three years later at age thirteen. He got old. It started last year around this time. One night, I was at a concert – seeing Ringo Starr and His All Stars at PNC (a really fun show and I don’t blame Ringo at all). A storm rolled through while the concert was going on. I watched it from under the dome of the amphitheater. Saw massive lightning displays while Edgar Winter ripped through the song “Frankenstein”. The rain had stopped and the storm gone by the time I got back to the car and found three frantic messages from Kerry on my cell. She couldn’t get the dog in the house – which is not new. But she couldn’t get him to stand. He tried. But then he crumbled to the ground. And he couldn’t get up the front stairs. Eventually, a friend came by and they carried him in – fireman style – on a blanket. Jules never went up the front stairs again. He could go down them and then I would carry him into the house. Unfortunately, neither carry nor Chris can lift him, so I built a ramp for the back stairs (which, of course, he HATED for weeks).

He has aged quickly since then. Collies have notorious genetic problems with their hips. Running is pretty much out. He can only walk for a short period of time. He can’t get into the car without being carried nor can he stand for very long. This makes grooming nearly impossible at this point. Over the winter, Jules’ face became greyer and greyer every day. An astounding thing – Nature taking its toll so quickly.

But this is not a eulogy. Jules is still alive and kicking (well, maybe not kicking). He has a good appetite and still likes to play (he’s a Frisbee dog). He barks at motorcycles with relish – though his voice has become deep and hoarse. And he is still a hundred pound carnivore living in this small house. Still - Time is not his friend. But we are and we’ll keep him happy as long as he wants to hang around.

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