Jazz of Mine

Jasmine the disappearing dog is home today. She came out of the barn when some of my little ones were arriving this morning. She is a strange beast who comes and goes at will much to the distress of my sister who thinks she should stay home where she belongs. If it wasn't for the fact that she has been doing this for so long and I now know where she goes, I might be distressed too. But, as far as I know, Martin lives alone and Jazz provides him with a little company. I catch her sleeping in his yard as I drive past some days. If she notices, she lifts her head to watch us go by. Sometimes I wave but I never stop anymore to load her into the van and take her back home. She returns when she's good and ready, sometimes looking for a bowl of food and other times flopping herself down in front of the wood stove for a nap.

Jazz is a three-legged dog. She broke her leg in an unfortunate encounter with an automobile on a dark winter night almost nine years ago. We made the tough decision to have it amputated and have loved her as though she was whole ever since. For many years she had little difficulty but as she grows older the loss of a limb has put a strain on her body. She falls down often, especially in long grass, and can no longer keep up with us on long orchard walks. She rests a lot in her travels, sometimes stopping to lay in the grass across the street before making it all the way home.

I know she won't be with us forever and I am concerned for her well being. I wrote her name and phone number on her collar with a permanent black marker and next month will gather her up for a trip to the vet so I can renew her license. She's a funny dog and still does somersaults when we reach down to pet her just like she did in the animal shelter when I first saw her as a puppy ten years ago.