It’s January. Christmas has come and gone, and the New Year has begun. It is almost the one year anniversary of the passing of my mom (January 10). Our beloved senior dog, Miss Jordan, passed on December 15th. The void in my life is palpable. Yet I feel a peace, a relief that I haven’t felt in a long time.
When you devote yourself as a caregiver, whether it be to a parent, child, animal, or other, it takes its toll. For parents who have a special needs child, I cannot imagine the lifelong commitment. I assisted my mother for a solid decade and it completely wore me out. Without my spouse and sisters, it would have been unimaginable.
And then there’s Miss Jordan. She was with us for sixteen years. Anyone who has cared for a senior dog will tell you that it’s no picnic. But yet, we care deeply out of love and do everything we can to make them comfortable.
I think she was barely a few months old when my daughter spotted Jordan, tail wagging and looking like she was ready for a new family. Michelene knocked on the door of her birth house, asked if Jordan was available for adoption, and brought her home that day (no charge, by the way).
We had a older border collie mix named Lucky who was not happy when Jordan came. Jordan playfully irritated Lucky to no end, and Lucky would respond with barking until he was hoarse. But Jordan motivated Lucky and I swear he lived a bit longer with her energy.
Jordan defied injury and death a couple of times. She had a habit of chasing deer through our neighboring woods and once I drove around to find her, narrowing catching her before she stepped onto a busy main road. She gave us numerous other causes for alarm, always coming out like a cat with nine lives.
We raised chickens for many years, and early in her puphood we heard cackling in the coop very late one night. Jim took Jordan down and opened the door, only to find a raccoon had infiltrated and was wreaking havoc. Jordan quickly snatched the raccoon behind the ears and in one fell crunch, the offending animal was silenced.
After that, Jordan became fiercely protective of the chickens. She sat outside with them in the evenings when they languished in the yard, feasting on bugs and sometimes, my flowers, roaming freely under her protection. Her reward was a fresh egg, which she gently cracked open, licked from inside out, and devoured completely.
Towards the end of her life, Jordan still walked our field several times a day, her steps a memory from when my grandson Gavin was young. As a child, he drove his Jeep Power Wheels around the parameters every morning and several times a day, Jordan following closely behind. Sticking her nose deeply into the grass, she would sniff out the deer and other varmints that had likely passed through during the night. Even at Jordan’s old age, she still attempted to chase anything that came into her yard because after all, it was HER yard.
Thank you Jordan for your years of devotion. For sharing your joy and patience and inspiring me to sit outside and revel in nature. You were an amazing welcoming committee for every house guest. We love you and will remember you eternally.
