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Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Jazzy



Tuesday, March 24, we had to put down our dog, Jasmine. She was a Bull Terrier mix. The proverbial “pit bull”. She was this short muscular, very timid animal. She would run a way when you took out the vacuum.

My brother, Matthew, got her from a kennel in 1999, on Fire Island, when she was about 2 months old. She was this little white thing with black and brown markings. She was just a ball of energy, running everywhere and climbing all over. The following year, my mother and step father moved to a new house, and since the old house was not sold yet, Matt was living in the house by himself with Jasmine. Now, when we got Jasmine, she was always supposed to be Matthews’s dog. It was supposed to be his responsibility. Thanksgiving Eve 2000, Matt and his friends, and I and my friends were going out, for the typical biggest night out bash. While we are out, my mother and step father stop by the house and end up taking Jasmine home with them. That was end of that. Slowly but surely, Jasmine stopped being Matt’s dog and started becoming theirs. Over the years they would complain about her and say that she was Matt’s and that he should take her, but we all knew that they would never give her up.

As Jasmine grew older, she never lost her energy. She was still this hyper thing that never just walked. Granted, she was never properly trained right. When you took here for a walk, she would always pull you, not walk with you. And for her build (short, stocky, all muscle, about 55 lbs), when she pulled, she took you with her.

A couple of years ago, we noticed this growth on one of her front legs. It was always small and never grew bigger. Then last year, it started to grow, and she developed other growths. They were removed at the vet and she was diagnosed with cancer. They said that there was not much they could do and gave her 3 months to live. That was just before Thanksgiving last year. Threw this all she was still active. She slowed down a bit, but that could have been due to age. She was in her 10th year. On Thanksgiving, my mother had a lot of people over and Jasmine was in the middle of everybody. She wanted to be around everybody. She still was playing with everybody. On Monday, my mom called me at work and said that it was time. They were to bring her to the Vet the next day. I decided that I needed to be there. This was going to be harder on my mom than she would think it would be, and my brother lives in Buffalo and could not be there. On Tuesday, I arrived at my mother’s house around 9:45. As I walk in, I hear Jasmine drinking from here bowl. She sees me and walks over to be petted. Then she slowly walks to her bed and lies down. She just lays there and doesn’t move. Normally, when I walk in, she bound over, tail wagging, waiting for you to pet her and play.

As she lay there, I could see how skinny she got. She hadn’t really eaten in a week, and when she did, she wouldn’t hold it down. All she would do is drink. We had no idea what the cancer was doing to her insides. When it was time to take her to the vet, she would not get up off her bed. I had to pick her up and stand her up. We put the leash on and she slowly (unusual for her) walked to the car. At the vet, she casually walked into the building. The Vet is also her kennel, and most of the time she fights going there. They sometimes have to give her a sedative to get here to clam down. They even noticed how different she was acting. She just walked into the exam room and lay down. 10 minutes later, the vet came in to give Jasmine her sedative, to relax her for her final moments. Jasmine did not move while receiving the shot. For the next 20 minutes she goes from slowly moving around to basically almost falling asleep. She did, however, walk over to each of us and for a little bit. You wonder if she knew it was her time and she was saying good bye. She came over and looked up at me. When I started to rub and scratch her head, she would lower here head as she always did. Then she went back to her spot on the floor and laid there for the rest of the time. Then the Vet and her assistant come back in. It was time. I pick up Jasmine and put her on the table. She doesn’t fight or budge. She seems to accept it. She lies on the table and doesn’t move. I stand by her head to keep her still if she does move. The fluid is injected into here right front leg. I bend down to look into her eyes. They are glazed over and do not move. She is gone.
It happens faster than I thought. I don’t say anything at that point. My mom asks if Jasmine will feel anything, if she will have any reactions, like start to shake. The Vet tells her that Jasmine is already deceased. At that point, my mom starts to cry again; with the finality that Jasmine is gone.

I do wonder how my son will handle it. I just showed him some pictures of Jasmine, and he said, excitedly, “That’s Jasmine”. When my son Cameron would go over to their house, we kept Jasmine away because of how hyper she was. She would run into him and knock him over. Jasmine would be outside. Cameron would stare at him through the window and laugh. He would put his face up against the window at Jasmine. When he goes over he asks where Jasmine is. I don’t know what is going to happen the next time my mother takes him to stay over and he asks where Jasmine is. How do you explain it to a three year old? I don’t think it will affect him too much because he doesn’t live with Jasmine and he seems him rarely. But you never know.

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