Mama Jodhi looks over the beach on her last trip to Fort Funston, April 2008
As a younger dog Daddy looked nothing like my pretty pittie girl Mama Jodhi, but as he aged over the last few years I saw more and more of the signs of a great dog nearing the end of his voyage on earth. The aging pittie 'penguin waddle', the whitening of the muzzle, the eyes opened wide to try to let in more light past cataracts. But also the sheer joy of life and wisdom of accumulated years. Many people saw their dogs in Daddy and many more saw grace and kindness for the first time in a pit bull. Most dog people respect Cesar as a trainer but we all LOVED Daddy.
Hearing the news pulled Mama Jodhi to the front of my mind, but with a year's distance it's becoming more sweet and less bitter. Just as my first Rottie Duncan saw me through the hell of burn recovery, Mama Jodhi's mission was to help two women in their transitions. Jodhi's first owner died, leaving Jodhi on death row: this is how I got her as a foster dog. She then shared a special bond with my mother, a cancer and then stroke survivor (and finally victim). Jodhi belonged to me, but my mother belonged to Jodhi and the two lovely ladies made their departures within weeks of each other.
In her younger days with me (ages 8-11) Jodhi was a great bee huntress. I had a huge walnut tree in my back garden with a honeybee colony living inside the 3 foot round trunk, and our 'bee friends' provided Jodhi with quite the entertainment. Vet records from her real youth indicate that it took her several years to refine the art of bee hunting, capturing and swallowing without getting stung. By the time she got to me she was a pro, and I usually decked her out in bee-themed collars to declare her prowess.
The bee colony was gone when I got back from my year in Europe and though I waited another year for them to come back, today I had the dead tree stump removed. Another change. The thing was damn ugly but it made me think of Jodhi chasing bees and whizzing around the lawn at a 100 miles per hour. More transitions.
This week has brought good change as well. Brogan is really starting to shine in his new role, and I am becoming a better teacher. After years (his entire life, really) of being the 'auxillary dog' in my pack, the two of us ARE the pack and I am at this late date finally learning how to be the right person for him instead of trying to fit him into my image of a Rottweiler as defined by Duncan. Today he crawled through under a low bench for the first time, just because he trusted me, and he did it with a big dumb smile on his face.
It would take too long to explain why that one act was a perfect ballet of teamwork for both of us... let's just say that Mama Jodhi and Daddy would be proud.
Seriously, were there ever any sweeter pitties on the planet than Daddy and Jodhi? I will never forget when I spent the night at your place without my dog, and Jodhi came out of her bed with her blanket still on her to get in bed with me, and stayed the whole night. I loved her madly. I am so glad you wrote this, while my ENTIRE family mourns Daddy, it is nice to remember the sweetness and love for life these dogs have. Way to go, Brogie, for carrying on, for being so agreeable and in-the-moment, so trusting and funny!DOGS ARE THE BEST!(They are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole!)
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