All That Jazz

I’ll just be straightforward with you and admit I doubt this post will evolve into any great spiritual truth. I’m just in the mood for a story.
My dog’s name is Jazz. She is half dalmatian and half chow. She will be 12 years old this year. She doesn’t know she’s a dog. Sadly, Jazz is probably nearing the end of her journey. She’s not the model of canine magnificence she once was. She has, shall we say “lumps” and “bumps” in places that the Black Eyed Peas aren’t likely to sing about any time soon. Although I have asked her, “Whatcha gonna do with all those bumps?”
Jazz is slowing down. Her black spots and white fur are blurring around the edges. Her eyes are often watery. She has a chronic ear infection. She sleeps 27 hours a day. Her dog body is winding down.
She must be aware that her days are numbered, because she is doing things she wouldn’t have done at one time. For instance, she drinks our beverages out of our cups while we’re sitting right there. You can put a glass of iced tea of the coffee table, sit down and turn on Oprah and suddenly realize Jazz is drinking your iced tea. I guess she figures there aren’t enough days left to live on room temp water in an old tupperware bowl on the kitchen floor.
But man, back in the day, Jazz was something else. Tonight we were talking about the day she was hit by a car. You see, Jazz was a runner. Given a narrow opportunity, she’d take off into the streets and God help you if you were trying to catch her. She was streamlined and built for speed. Sometimes we didn’t even realize she had escaped until we glanced out the front window and saw her hanging out across the street. One day a neighbor knocked on the door to report that Jazz had stopped by and had a nice snack of ribs and ice water in case we were looking for her. Again, we didn’t know she had left.
So this particular day we heard the screeching of tires and realized, Jazz had escaped again. She’d been hit by a car. This poor woman was beside herself. I mean, what decent human being wouldn’t be bothered by running over some family’s dog? So she stops the car and comes running around to check on the victim, meanwhile we go to the front door just realizing what has happened to see our Jazzy...barking in extreme disgust at this idiot who has just run her over. She was highly offended. After all, pedestrians do have the right of way.
So she gives this now thoroughly rattled woman what for and turns to limp back up the front walk. Now we aren’t sure if this is tragic or hilarious so we’re waiting to check her over. She lost much of the fur on one side of her body. A little battered. Definitely ticked. And in a final indignity, at some point in the drama she had, well she had pooped on herself. We’re unsure to this day whether this happened on impact or in her great anger.
Jazz recovered to have many more adventures, which I may just share in the future, when another story-telling mood strikes. In fact, some of you commentators probably have some Jazz stories of your own. She’s legendary ‘round these parts.
In the meantime, forgive me for a sentimental journey down memory lane. Nope, there really didn’t turn out to be much spiritual significance in my story. Except that that crazy dog is a hoot and a half. And I think God is an awesome artist, He paints life with just those kind of details. Like goofy chowmations who bring years of stories and giggles to a family’s life.
Rock on J-Dog.