January 18 2007.......Tribute to Julia

I’d like to tell you about my beautiful friend, Julia. Julia was an approximately 10 year old black standard poodle. This gracious and gentle lady came into our life on June 12, 2006. Her introduction to Dreamweaver Farms was with an email from Lia Berez about a puppy mill bust in Georgia. Could CPR take this girl?

When Julia was picked up by animal control, her situation was described this way – “When this SP came into the shelter, she was wrapped so tightly in hair mats that she literally could not walk. She appears to have a growth on her left shoulder and a swelling or growth on her bottom. Her eyes are just about glued shut from conjunctivitis. And, oh yes, she may be pregnant…. But, despite all this, this dog is very calm and cooperative. She will walk along nicely with you and goes into a crate willingly. She is very laid back.”

That was all I needed to hear. CPR said “yes” to this standard poodle.

Julia was from a place called a puppy mill. For those who are unaware, a puppy mill is just like it sounds. It’s a place where puppies are produced in mass amount. Unfortunately, it’s not usually a well run factory. The “machines” producing the puppies receive little or no “maintenance” other than the bare minimum required to sustain the “machine’s” ability to produce. Julia was a baby machine, bred at every heat and valued for nothing more than her ability to produce puppy after puppy with no concern for her own health. After all, once this “machine” wears out, we’ll get another one.

In the case of Julia, the situation was so grave and so inhumane, that the owners were brought up on charges of felony animal abuse, not just simple animal abuse.

For one day shy of seven months, Julia finally knew peace from the baby making business. Once she entered the doors of Dreamweaver Farms, her life as a machine was over.

If Julia ever had a name, we didn’t know it. Janie Dillon transported Julia and chose her name for her – Julia, or pretty woman. It fit her perfectly. Despite the damage of the hard years and despite the cancer already taking her health and vitality, Julia was a beautiful woman.

Julia regally ruled our kennel with noble poise. She gracefully tolerated the antics of the youngsters and littles. She never had to be crated; she never had to be confined. She did not know how to issue a harsh snap or growl. Her eyes, calm and serene, indicated she had seen many things and had decided long ago to accept what life gave her with dignity and simply make the best of things. Since meeting Julia, I have tried to emulate her attitude. It makes life so much more satisfying.

There was no real fanfare during Julia’s 7 months presence in our lives. She did have a tendency to countersurf. How she could manage to get the opened can of dog food, the bag of frozen Bil Jac or the container of hotdogs off the tallest shelf (always when I was not looking) despite her condition amazed me yet she did it. She never apologized either, preferring to give me the look that said that since they were made to be eaten, she had decided that now was the time for the eating. I could not deny her and she always got what she wanted.

Other than that, she was simply always there. I greeted her first thing every morning and she greeted me in return. Her tail would wiggle and waggle this way and that, letting me know I was welcome and needed in her kennel. Last thing at night was a pat and a kiss for Julia before turning out the lights. Unlike others, she never howled or fussed when I left. She knew that her place at night was in the kennel and my place at night was somewhere else. She never begrudged me that.

A couple of months into our time together, I asked Julia if she’d like to come to the house to live. She explained to me that she did not care to. She liked where she was. She knew the routine. She knew the softest bed spots and that those beds were hers. She knew where the water bowls were and they were only a few steps from her bed. She had her cow hooves, arranged all in a row to her liking. There were no stairs to negotiate. There was always something happening, with new dogs coming in and adopters coming to meet them and everyone greeted Julia. When they arrived, the new fosters needed soothing and showing the ropes. When the new fosters first arrived, they were so scared and Julia could calm them. No, she did not want to be a house foster. She had always been in a kennel, and this was a fine one to be in. She was content.

I started getting worried that our time was nearly up the first week of 2007. Her walk, always slow, was now more of a lumber. On Monday 1/8, when Ashley and Carol came to groom, I expressed my concern and both of them agreed that she was much bigger and more cumbersome. The tumors apparently were spreading. She had a very good week the first week of the year but Monday, when we bathed her, it was obvious that she was very weak. When I took her over to get her water, I had to hold her mid-section up and be a makeshift sling for her. Her heart was about to pound out of her chest, it was working so hard after having taken just a few steps. I wrote to all of you, my friends in our volunteers circle, to tell you that the end was near.

Julia entered our lives on Monday, June 12, 2006. She left behind her worn out shell of a body on Thursday January 11, 2007 at 10:11 am. I had my hand on her chest and was gently stroking her cheek. Terry Abell – she was wrapped in that oh so soft gray blanket you had sent and her head was cradled on the pink gingham pillow. She had wagged her tail at me that morning but did not get up. She watched me clean with her normal interest, but made no move to investigate or seek out the hot dogs. At a few minute after 10, she gave a little noise in her throat. It is the only time in our sojourn together that I saw her exhibit stress or pain. I sat down next to her and stroked her. Moments later she let out a soft sigh and she left.

Did angels sing? I’m not sure. I was too busy trying to feel a heartbeat. Part of me knew she was gone and part of me couldn’t believe it. Did everyone in the kennel get very, very quiet? Yes…you could have heard a pin drop. How did they know? But they did, her kennel mates, and they paid homage in their own way, with a moment of silence. I am honored and blessed to have been there at that moment.

Did it hurt to lose her, especially after only just getting to know her? You bet it did. Was it worth the pain to be able to spend a few precious months making her life better and, an unexpected benefit, having my life made better in return? Absolutely.

To some reading this, you’ll say she was just a dog. She was a dog. She was also a gracious, living creature who exemplified peace and tranquility in the way she lived and the way she died. She was just a dog yet she taught me lessons in tolerance and in acceptance. She was just a dog but if others lived the way this dog lived, the world would have less fighting and more playing and less hatred and more tolerance. She was just a dog. I’m blessed to have known her.

Good night sweet Julia – and Godspeed. Wait for me please and I’ll see you at the Bridge.

Donna
photos:
(1) The fairy castle is a photo that my friend and business partner, Jennifer Mead, sent to me upon hearing of Julia's death. It represents very well my idea of the Rainbow Bridge. That's Julia's castle in the background.
(2) On the bed with Simba - January 2007
(3) With Donna - October 2006
(4) Freshly groomed and relaxing - August 2006
(5) With orange color and leash - our first shot of Julia, still at the shelter - June 2006