Happy birthday to Herself, who celebrates another lap around the sun today. I won’t tell you how many, as I wish to continue breathing in and out. I had hoped to give her something she’s wanted for more than a month now — a completely restored basement office and bathroom — but the mitigation gods did not smile upon us. So we settled for a birthday breakfast at the Olive Branch downtown and will share a sparkling rosé tonight when she gets home from Denver.
We’ll raise at least one glass of that bubbly to Josie, a.k.a. JoJo, Demon Spawn, who until yesterday had been the last dog standing of the fabled German shepherd troika renowned throughout Santa Rosa, California, and beloved of Wes, Mary and Lo. Writes Lo:
Josie “JoJo” “Demon Spawn” died peacefully and without pain at home on Wednesday with Wes and Mary at her side. She knew all along that you can make it a wonderful life. Just the day before she was out walking with her Dad, and got to play in the creek. She loved the water so much! — like a moose — and she also loved her walks in the park. She is the last of the (in)famous Santa Rosa German Shepherd trio, and she now has joined Darcy and Ritchey in the Big Beyond and also in Pet Cemetery at the Dog House, resting along with her blanket, toys and a stick. She left behind plenty of fur to keep us cleaning up after her, which she is certain to supervise from the Beyond — always happy to have her people cleaning up after her instead of leaving on their bikes. Best of all, Josie left us with the happiest of memories and a love for life and for us that will entertain and sustain us for the rest of our lives. Here’s to JoJo!
By all means, here’s to JoJo. Slainte! I’ve stood dry-eyed on the shore as many a human relative hung ten on the River Styx, but shed oceans of tears for four-legged family members — my own mutt Jojo, his daughter, Fuerte, our final dog, Bandit, and the famous Weirdcliffe felines Ike and Tina Turdherder.
This being March and St. Patrick’s Day so near, I’ll reference an Irish short story I’ve always loved: “Requiem,” by Frank O’Connor. It’s about a woman who asks a priest to say Mass for her departed poodle, Timmy. The priest, though touched, refused, saying Timmy had no need of the Mass because he could not incur guilt.
The woman took the priest to task, saying, “I’m as good a Catholic as the next, but I’d say it to the Pope himself this minute if he walked into this room. They have souls, and people are only deluding themselves about it. Anything that can love has a soul. … And I know as I’m standing here that somewhere or other I’ll see him again.”
Mad Blog Media 
A great post as usual. It reminded me of a memorial service my reverend mother (she is a Congregational pastor) conducted for a Police K-9 killed in the line of duty here in New Hampshire. They asked two priests to do the service and both declined. Mom took the gig and I have to say it was one of the most stirring events I have ever witnessed. Over 200 K-9 teams attended and by the end of the service there wasn’t a dry eye, at least on the civilian side of the room.
I refuse to have any more pets because it hurts so much when you lose them.
David Quammen wrote of the eyeball test: you look a critter in the eye, and if you see something going on there, then they have a soul, just like yours. That test lets him zap a spider’s web with a can of Raid without feeling guilty.
Do not feel sorrow that dogs like Josie must die, but instead rejoice that they lived in the first place.