Goose24 Jan 2008 09:41 am

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Slide Show

Bam, bam, bam, click, click….grrrr, this is noise that greeted my family and me every morning as jill would run down the stairs, through the T.V. Room, then make the final sprint to the back door where she would then scan the yard looking for the animal that would invade her land day in day out…the squirrel. But the morning of the 18th of January 2008, there was no bam, no click, no grrrr, no this morning she did not wake up. She had passed away some time in the night before.

Jill was a different type of dog, she was not going to jump into your arms and let you pet her. In her mind you were there to please her. Your job was to throw the ball and then chase her so you could throw the ball again. But she never ran so fast enough  you couldn’t catch her,  just fast enough so she new she was in control. She wanted to be the leader in the house and we loved her for that. She was her own true free spirit.

Jill had a way of making people fall in love with her the first time she met them. She will be missed, but always loved and for that we thank her. May she rest in peace while her spirit runs free.

Thank Jill,

Chris

———————————————

Jill
Watching birds and and chasing squirrels
Jilly was a spirited girl

She was smart, yet loved to play
But you had to do it HER way

She hated to be brushed and groomed
So her soft, soft fur filled every room

She had issues, it’s true
But a finer dog, I never knew

Karen O’neill

6 Responses to “Dear Jill”

  1. on 24 Jan 2008 at 12:51 pm Mother Goose

    Thank you, Chris, for this lovely show. It captures her so well. Made me cry of course – in a good way.

  2. on 24 Jan 2008 at 5:16 pm Michael

    Killer ending to that slideshow.

  3. on 24 Jan 2008 at 7:05 pm FierceBaby

    Sometimes the not knowing wonder at the grieving for a pet. The knowing never do. Jill was a grand girl. I am so sorry she is no longer with you, except, of course, in memory.

  4. on 24 Jan 2008 at 8:03 pm adam

    Shocker to those of us more peripheral, but just not waking up in the morning’s a gift. It was easy to see she was well-loved and part of a good pack — I first met her as “Fang” at Michael’s, but I loved how any gathering of bipeds was a means to her end. Loved the tribute, and the ending’s … yeah — killer.

  5. on 26 Jan 2008 at 10:38 am yoder

    Thanks Chris, for creating such a nice tribute to our beautiful Jill. I’ve never lived with such a purposeful little creature. Whatever was foremost on her mind, it was almost always her own agenda, and lucky us that we fit in. Wherever she is now, she’s surely having a ball.

  6. on 27 Jan 2008 at 5:59 pm michael

    I don’t think I ever told you this but … well, let me come up with a beginning and start there. I grew up with dogs. My family’s first was a boxer and last was either a poodle or a German Shepherd. The poodle was poisoned and the Shepherd hit by a car on the highway in front of our house and died in the yard next to ours.

    Anyway, from an early age I wrestled with dogs. Down to their level, take out their legs, spin ’em around and pounce. Often got pounced back which was the point. Even the poodle learned the rough and tumble, and , frankly, I never knew another way.

    One day, when Jill was staying at our house, I got down on my knees and went after her. Just like I’d done with Smoky and Vonya and even Tulum. However, Jill wasn’t in a playing mood. She grabbed my neck and slammed me onto the floor. I felt like a wayward puppy taught how to behave.