So I’m working in my office on one of the recent glorious spring days  with the windows wide open and I hear this crying.  A dog crying but it’s not familiar crying.  It’s an unfamiliar dog crying.  This is going on and on for at least fifteen minutes and then it stops…completely. 

I look out my office window and sure enough there’s a black lab mix in the parking lot.  He broke out and is roaming around the parking lot, peeing on whatever strikes his fancy, checking out the buildings and no one is coming after him?

Now he’s headed for my building. No, around the back of my building.  Ok, I just can’t let a dog run around without supervision.  Call me crazy but the cars are bigger than him and he doesn’t seem to notice.  I’m glad he’s headed around the back of my building because it’s safe back there near the forest (that’s another story). 

I close my girls in the office so there’s no incident in the making and head out my back door.  Here he comes…so I open the gate to my deck and call him up.  Actually it was more like woosy woosy woosy come here boy, you get the picture.  Up he comes; I close the gate and gotch ya! 

So now what?  I put him on a leash and off we go to find his family and check out the scene of the crime.  I walk him around to where I first noticed him and I don’t see anything unusual… until I look up.  This little escapee came from out of a second story window. Really?

Now I’m checking for broken bones, scratches, blood…nothing.  Its super dog!

Ok, I text Muriel with my usual snappy remark and now I have company in my little adventure.  There is knocking on doors, inquiries to neighbors (who were not at all happy with the little guys crying, or was it howling?) and then waiting. 

We took our little escapee for a short walk when someone new pulled into our street.  Now I don’t know all the neighbors but I’m pretty sure I know all the dogs and who goes with whom and this person seemed new and this dog seemed new soooooo.

We walked toward where he parked his truck and we asked him, “Is this your dog?”  Now when you leave your condo, the one on the second floor, and smooch your dog good bye you’re pretty sure that one of your neighbors isn’t going to be asking you if this is your dog.  The look on the poor guys face was priceless…it is my dog he stammered.  Sawyer, how the hell did you get out?  We pointed up to his mangled screen in the window and I thought he’d faint. 

Sawyer was extremely happy to see his Dad and his Dad was extremely happy and grateful to see him.  Another happy ending on Stowe Lane.

 I’ve just received an email from a friend in pain.  He’s poured his heart out in this email over the loss of his best friend Jasper.  There are many of you that are reading this and remembering best friends that you’ve known and loved.  There are others that will never understand the magnitude of that love and that saddens me.  I’m not sure that my friend understands the magnitude of Jasper’s legacy.

First let me say that Jasper’s appearance into Shawn’s life was a destiny beyond the universe.  I’m sure, although I don’t know with any certainty, that had he not found that dirty street dog my life would be much different.   Shawn is a dog trainer.  I call him my friend despite the fact that I’ve only seen him an hour and half at a time for all of three times.  I believe he calls me friend too. 

I adopted two little girls from a woman in Arkansas who found them as two dirty street dogs and took them under her wing.  The girls were destined to live with me by the sheer ease with which they made their way to Stowe Lane where I live.  But once they got here all manner of ease was gone.  I was in a state of change I couldn’t even begin to know.  The girls were in a state of change they couldn’t begin to know either.  A perfect storm.  I loved them the minute I met them and they me but everyone else was kept at arm’s length, literally.  Slowly, I began to isolate myself again.  The very thing I ran from was happening again and I had to stop it. 

Enter Shawn.  Jasper had trained him well.  He enters a home with a grace and presence that only a street dog can teach a man.  His energy has been learned from a teacher like Jasper.  Lina, my fearful Staffordshire terrier mix, who usually peed at anyone’s mere presence, fell in behind Shawn and relaxed.  Toto, my Wire Haired Terrier mix quickly relinquished her protectiveness for Shawn’s rules.  As did I.  Slowly, I came to believe that I was in control.  That I could love these girls within the boundaries that would keep us all safe and give us the life we deserved.   We walk all over our neighborhood now; we are not afraid but confident.  We have rules and understanding.  We have each other for the rest of our lives.

Jasper’s message to Shawn has been learned by most of us who’ve become his friend.  I do my best for my girls every day and they reward me with the same love and loyalty that Jasper and Shawn have shown each other. 

I have lost dogs in my lifetime and, with the exception of one, I have been by their sides when they have crossed that same bridge.  There is no greater sense of loss one could ever feel.  I also know that what we do when we let our friends go is more humane and selfless than you can ever know.  I can only hope that someone will love me enough to do that for me one day when I have surpassed my ability to enjoy life.  But through that pain we become who we are meant to be, we learn our strength and pass it on to the next.  All these experiences give us the capacity to love and care for the next best friends that come into our lives.   And indeed they will come into our lives.

I hope Shawn will feel his pain all the way through so that he can come out the other side with even more love in his heart.   As for Jasper, he joins my Toby, Pearl and beloved Murphy.  Very good company for sharing a double cheeseburger.  You remain in our hearts and prayers.

With love San, Lina and Toto too!

Donations in Jasper’s name should be made to http://www.rbari.org/donate.html