In Loving Memory

   
     Jolly crossed the rainbow bridge today.

Jolly riding with me in my first car

     My sister was driving from Charlotte to see friends at Appalachian State University about 13 years ago when they saw Jolly on a busy highway.  They stopped and called to her.  She trotted up, got in the car with them, and rode back to Charlotte.

     I was delighted with my sister!  It didn't matter to me that she was in an apartment that did not allow dogs, or that she had no money to take the dog to the vet because I was allowed to name the dog! I chose "Jolly" because of how amiable the little gal was, and I knew that in French "jolie" meant "pretty".  Soon, Jolly was in heat, so the inevitable happened: we called Mom!

     Truly, my Mom and Dad saved Jolly.  They opened their home and their wallets for vaccines, spaying, routine health care, food and supplies.  At the time my sister did not even live at home anymore, and I was in my tumultuous teens, but Jolly was still "Our Dog".

     When my parents moved to Mooresville some years back, Jolly of course went with them, and had a seamless transition to the new home.  She still was perfect on walks, off-leash in the yard, quiet in the house, polite to visitors and tolerant of the cats.  As years went by, I suppose I took for granted Jolly's wagging presence.  Whenever we came to see my parents, Jolly was always there to greet us at the door.

One of the first things she learned was to "Smile" and she never forgot it.

     Several weeks ago, my parents noticed that Jolly seemed to be having difficulty passing her stool.  They tried supplements, over-the-counter remedies, switching food, all the medications the Vet prescribed.  Jolly just didn't seem to be digesting normally anymore.  Nothing seemed to help.  She slowed down.  Walking. Eating.  Everything slowed.  No more chipmunks and birds being delivered to the back door to make my Mom scream.

     Yesterday, I visited my parents for my birthday, and to say goodbye to Jolly.

     As we sat eating our meal, I saw Jolly rise up and wobble towards the table.  My Dad was on his feet immediately.  "Come on girl, do you need to go outside?"  He strode directly to the back door to allow her to go out onto the back deck.  My Dad had just recently finished building that deck.  I watched him watching Jolly as she squatted unsteadily on the smooth finished boards.  Her legs trembled, and she seemed to have trouble balancing.  After long seconds stretched into minutes, she staggered back towards the door.  My Dad explained "She can't seem to produce anything, but thinks she has to go.  She doesn't seem to have much tolerance for the heat anymore either.  Excuse me, I need to let her in."

     Inside, I could see Jolly panting heavily, from the heat or the effort I cannot say.  She went straight to a comfortably carpeted open area to lay down.

     Leaving yesterday was bittersweet.  I was glad to see my family, but I knew what was going to happen.  I know it is the better choice, and I am so grateful to have compassionate parents who will let me see for myself the reality behind their choices.

I took this picture yesterday, before I said goodbye

     Rest in Peace Jolly.  You are loved!