"I think dogs are the most amazing creatures; they give unconditional love. For me they are the role model for being alive." ~ Gilda Radner, American comedienne and actress, June 28, 1946 – May 20, 1989 ~

During a three month stay in Houston, Texas through my work, I saw a black toy poodle being chased by some small boys. They weren't trying to hurt him - the pathetically thin, smelly little dog was terrified because the boys were trying to pull out a yard long rose bramble that was deeply tangled into his coat. I scooped him up and found an after hours groomer who shaved the bramble out. She said that his back appeared to be scalded with some type of hot liquid. I was unsuccessful in locating his owner and named him JoJo. A month later, he had filled out to be a gorgeous little man.
He had the strangest, and at first, the most aggravating bark I've ever heard. Once I finally got back to Shreveport I took him in for a thorough check up with my beloved vet on June 30th (hence, how we decided on a birth date). He was guesstimated to be about eleven years old. Goodness, but the baby had been born while I was a freshman in high school! Then my heart shattered. This precious little old dog had been terribly, terribly abused - more so than I originally thought. Someone had tried to unprofessionally debark him. The "surgery" was nothing short of butchering the little dog's voice box. I had long opposed debarking; this only re-enforced my objection to this inhumane practice.
No matter his abusive past, he was a mischievous five pound fur ball and always full of fun. He made the perfect companion to my little FancyBoy. They would play non-stop for hours.
I was looking for a house for the boys and me. Joey lived with Fancy and me until I moved to another apartment complex that would only take one pet. This was a very small apartment and was, thankfully, the last I lived in. My parents kept him the sixteen months I lived there.
He adored my father. Daddy took him everywhere he went. Daddy was getting on up in years and was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and Parkinson's diseases. Somehow Daddy managed to lose him in Mansfield, Louisiana. Mama called me when she realized Daddy had lost Joey. I immediately left work, tearing down to look for him with no success. I was worried sick and finally decided I would go to the sheriff's office before driving back up to Shreveport late that same night. I left home and work numbers and prayed for the best.
Two days later, the sheriff called asking me could I meet him at a certain address in Mansfield. I dropped everything; though he wouldn't really commit to anything about Joey, I prayed all the way down that Joey had been found alive. The sheriff was waiting at the address when I arrived. He asked me several questions about any markings on Joey. I told him his skin beneath his fur was solid black, he was heavily gray on his muzzle, and the only identifying thing about him was his agonizing sounding bark. He went inside the home and reappeared with a lady who had JoJo in her arms. The lady refused my reward offer stating she would only hope that someone would provide good care for her dog should he come up missing. Amidst tears of joy, Joey and I headed home.
We surmised that Joey had jumped out of Daddy's car when he parked. JoJo probably took a stroll four blocks away and lucked upon his Good Samaritan. Whatever, I couldn't believe my good fortune in finding him safe and sound.
The following summer I located a little house in Southern Hills in Shreveport to purchase. At last, my boys had a large fenced-in back yard! No more apartment life. But JoJo was beginning to lose his hearing and sight, so I would have to take him into the yard on a lead so that he would find his way back to the patio door. He would have actually been more comfortable at my parents' where he knew every square inch of their home and yard, but Mama had her hands full caring for Daddy, who'd became bedridden that same summer.
In October, I found a small growth on Joey's upper left side. I took him to the vet, who said we needed to keep a close eye on it due to his age. Though growing at an alarming rate, my vet didn't want to operate. It was benign, yet he didn't want to risk surgery on my elderly little man.
When I called him Monday before Easter Sunday about Fancy's illness, he said I really needed to let Joey go since his quality of life was now rapidly declining. I asked him to let me make sure that Fancy was back on the road to good health before Joey's euthanasia. By Thursday night before Good Friday, I knew in my heart of hearts that I had to release both of my little boys from this life. Both FancyBoy and JoJo left for the Bridge on Good Friday, April 10, 1983. Fancy was ten years old, JoJo was around seventeen years old. I grieved and grieved for months.
After all these years, I still miss these cherished little dogs. ❤

Pawprints Left By You
You no longer greet me,
As I walk through the door.
You're not there to make me smile,
To make me laugh anymore.
Life seems quiet without you,
You were far more than a pet.
You were a family member, a friend
. . . a loving soul I'll never forget.
It will take time to heal -
For the silence to go away.
I still listen for you,
And miss you every day.
You were such a great companion,
Constant, loyal and true.
My heart will always wear,
The pawprints left by you.
Author: Teri Harrison