For the past 12 years (one Jupiter cycle), my Catahoula Leopard Dog Jupiter has been my companion—neither faithful, nor particularly loving, but nonetheless, much loved. He’s been one of the great teachers of my life, opening me to wider patience and compassion, and initiating me into secrets of the heart I couldn’t have touched any other way.
Bodies age and die, but to the end, Jupiter’s spirit was still kicking, keen for the pleasures of peanut butter balls, raw meat, stolen scraps from the trash, cookies, bones, apples, and chews. He was a handsome boy. My greatest pleasure was watching him run big loping circles around a field, especially one with cows. True to the god he was named for, he loved freedom. I was never sure when I called him that he’d agree to come back, though he mostly did. On one of his great solo adventures he startled a crowd at a Saturday morning Little League game, oblivious to the many posted signs warning “No Dogs Allowed.”
He was a lordly fellow to the last. In the final weeks of his life when he could still take walks in his doggie wheel chair, he loved to roll past the dog park and shout imperially at any dog who might be unaware that Jupiter was still King. On his last morning, he wagged his bent tail when I touched him awake, was patient as I meditated, gobbled a breakfast of raw steak, and then for the first time in a week, dragged himself around the backyard without any help, taking his last poop on his own terms. Good boy! He had cookies throughout the morning, big gulps of water, a juicy ham bone in the afternoon, another raw steak for dinner, and of course, lots of kisses and hugs. I have it on good celestial authority that the goddess Diana was waiting for Jupiter when he passed. Tonight they’ll be running together in the forest under an almost Full Moon.
With much gratitude for the support of many–my vets, those who made the seizure, thyroid and pain medications, the doggie diapers, and the “walking wheels” that kept Jupiter going for several years past his original expiration date.
So sorry for your loss and admiring of your strength to share and celebrate the wonderful life of your beloved dog, Jupiter. I am sure he will be with you for a while as you continue to grief your loss and feel his absence, more the lack of the physical routine that you two shared. May your pain lessen day by day and you be reunited with him when that time comes. Hugs to you… [I still miss Bubba and Rocky]
I’m so sorry to hear this…
Beautiful tribute. It was hard to do, but I know he is still there now to comfort you for the life you gave him. Watch for him being there in the days to come. Warm hugs…
Dear Dana and Jupiter,
I loved reading about your life together, and your words opened my heart! Jupiter, look at the Joy you brought me and so many others by you being you, Oh MightyOne! Dana, you treated Jupiter like a KING – what a majestic last day for him! I know you will miss him! I know he will be with you.
Love,
Debby
A lovely tribute Dana! I have sent up a prayer to Annie, Lola and Zeke to find Jupiter and show him some of the wilder spots on the other side. Zeke especially will love to accompany Jupiter on his other-side wanderings, and Annie, a wise alpha, will make sure they stay safe.
You know what they say about dog spelled backwards…. We are among the lucky ones who know it’s true. Blessings to you and Jupiter! Karen
PS: When I had my second NDE in the hospital, it was Annie who came and summoned the passed over people, and opened the passageway for me…. In this case, a beautiful, endless field of wild flowers and swaying grasses, with a split rail fence at the front border for as far as the eye could see. There was a opening in the very middle, about 15-20 feet wide. Annie came first and stood right in front of me, and the field and fence appeared around and behind her. Then my deceased grandparents came walking through the field, Jordie my one-time lover, many others, and they stood in a cluster around and beside Annie, waiting for me to step over. Which obviously, since I am typing this, I didn’t. There are many native-first nation cultures that believe when you die, it is your dog or dogs who help you cross over. So I think Jupiter may be there to greet you, many moons from now when you are ready to transition. Until then, he’s having a blast in the cow fields of heaven! Xoxoxo
Thank you Karen. it’s lovely to think of Jupiter with new friends, loping through fields… and it’s lovely to think of seeing all of my dearly departed friends again some day. Hugs.
Dear Dana,
Much love…..Carolyn