The vet called yesterday and said that Jojo had arrived.
I couldn’t go get him, then. The chest cold had done a number on me over the last few days, and I did the dumb thing by thinking I could still work on the mail route. Doctor put me on bedrest until Monday, but I was determined that Joe would be coming home today.
They’re both home, now. Sitting together as they always did.
Having them together again will help mend my soul back, even if my body is going to need more time to recover. My voice is all but gone, but I’m on strong medication for bronchitis, so that’ll get fixed soon enough. I’ve also recently learned that a severe cough can pull muscles in your chest… the hard way.
Sigh…I’ve been through the ringer lately.
But hey, I’ve been ordered off of work for a few days, and now that my home feels a bit more whole, maybe I can write again. Han (7yr old) has said that she did not like it that I was sick and not myself. She’s said she hopes I will feel better and write like she always sees me doing.
Indiana knows there’s a lot missing in the house nowadays. With his vision mostly gone, and his mental faculties fading, he’s gotten more confused ever since Jojo died.
But he knows where to go when that confusion gets to him. He’s been staying nearby me more often, and barks if I leave the room.
It’s one of those times that I admit that my heart is broken and my soul lost a part of itself. I’ve heard it said that humans will pack-bond with all manner of creatures, but I will steadfastly stand by the old phrase: “Dog is Man’s Best Friend.”
How do I know this? By spending over ten years of my life with Jojo being a constant part of it.
Sleepy puppy
Joseph “JoJo” was born on March 22, 2012. Joe was special all on his own, of course, but for me, he held a truly unique post in my life: he was the first dog that I, and I alone, actively sought out and chose to take into my world. I worried that Casey would want a companion around to play with, as at that time I was still a hopeless bachelor. I decided to go out looking for a second dog to have around. JoJo came up in my searches. I met the folks who were selling his litter, talked it over with them, and asked for who would become Joe.
In May, he was brought down to Louisiana, and I got to meet him for the first time. He immediately clambered into my lap and curled up for a nap.
His first night, and already too big for that bed.
It’s selfish of me to say it, as he meant so much to so many, but he was my dog.
There were worries given to me that I brought home a second male puppy when I already had a male dog under my roof, but those folks forgot that these were Goldens. They bonded with each other and we were our own little pack for years.
He was accepted almost immediately.
I had planned to take Joe camping and hunting with me, but life always disagreed with this wish, leading me to never have that experience. In an ironic twist, it was probably for the best; Joe hated water. I never figured out why, though he loved sinks in his younger years (preferably dry).
But why, though?
As the years passed, and family grew, Joe was always at my side, ready to play, to walk, even to defend us from the perceived threats of squirrels or birds in the yard.
Worn out from play-time.
Jojo had one of the purest souls I’ve had the privilege of witnessing and was welcoming and patient with our children as they grew. But as they grew, he grew old.
Jojo had a tumor on his leg that had ruptured before his twelfth birthday. Surgery was not possible, as the tumor was right at an elbow joint and wrapped around major blood vessels. Amputation wasn’t an option, as it would have ruined his quality of life, at his age. I decided to go with palliative care, treating him at home helping him manage his pain until the end.
When that end came, I knew I wasn’t ready. Not again. But I shoved that selfishness away. It was his time, and he couldn’t go quickly like Casey had. He needed… help along the way.
Last meal was steak and potatoes, and he was full for the first time I had ever known.
On April 9, 2024, we took Jojo to the vet after having made arrangements. I took the day off to uphold my promise to not leave him until he had left us. We all took the day to say our goodbyes.
One last ride in the 4Runner
From the moment we entered the vet, Jojo did not leave physical contact with me, and I was happy to reciprocate.
His last photo
When the time came, Sarah and I were sitting with him, telling him all the while how good a boy he had been, how grateful we had been that he was in our lives, and that we’d miss him.
“You did great, old man,” I said. “You can rest now.”
He gave one last sigh. He was gone. I broke again.
It’ll be a long time before I recover from these months.
Won’t be writing today. JoJo needs to go to the vet.
One last time.
…goddammit.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
Edit: I had this written first thing in the morning, but walked away from the computer to play with my dog. Sorry it’s a day late. I’ll write a proper eulogy post for Joe after the day shift. Cheers.
It’s been a busy time, folks. That, and I’ve been working on things.
Spring-cleaning this property has taken over a great deal of my attention, especially since things keep cropping up. A good example: carpenter ants infesting a shed at the far end of the property and making the thing collapse.
This was an ‘oh shit’ moment and way louder than you’d expect.
Watching your old tin shed start to cave in for absolutely no reason is a moment of concern, to put it lightly. After looking through the building (and battling a nest of wasps), I decided it was time to take the thing down and recycle the metals.
I’m not sure why there’s an old pit in there, to be honest.
Most of the lumber used for the shed was riddled with carpenter ant tunnels, which I learned about in the worst way possible and had to scramble to get my gloves removed. Fighting a nest of homicidal wannabe termites was not on my “To Do” list, but here we are. The tin is still good, though, so it’ll be reshaped for a smaller shed and used to keep the lawn mower out of the weather.
Following that, we’re getting back into the swing of things concerning the campaigns! Back-to-back sessions! Q&A discussions! Seeing 5 different players in my Discord messages with queries and RP notes!
Sigh…if management knew that I actually do handle multiple conversations and can be coherent (mostly) throughout the talks, they would try to make me a supervisor.
Not happening.
Of course, now that the flurry of activity is handled, I’m taking advantage of the day off and necessity to stay in town (doctor’s appointment) in order to write and post!
Cue the executive dysfunction…
It’ll be a struggle, but there’s determination! Also a self-imposed deadline, which will hopefully spur me on to reach a goal.
We’re working on the Star Wars novel today, but I’ve been to also add to the Campaign pages for a while. My players are making great strides in developing their homebrew concepts, and several have been play-tested and implemented. Getting them put on this thing gets a tad difficult (I think the layout might need restructuring and I just don’t wanna), but we’ll figure it out.
With that, I’ve finished rambling and procrastinating. For everyone that’s been patient with me, here’s Korra being the water-wolf that she is.
After battling through multiple bouts of ailments, and simple age, we’re having to say goodbye to Sarah’s pet, our family dog, Sadie.
15 years of getting underfoot and nipping at everyone’s heels in order to herd us to whatever it was she decided we had to be. When she started showing problems with her hips, I started bending my rules about dogs in the bed and would pick her up so she’d still have her favorite spot.
I had to go to work today, but I did get to see her one last time and talk with her. For the first time in maybe 8 months, she recognized me and even wagged her tail.
Goodbye, Sadie. Thank you for the years. We’ll miss you.
I know it’s been some weeks since I’ve written here, and that I’m on hiatus until next year, but I wanted to update y’all on a bit of my life… and to give myself a bit of healing after a tragedy.
My oldest dog, Casey, died a couple days ago. I’m still coming to terms with that, and the only way I really know how is to tell a story. So, here we go:
Our first photo of the Old Man.
Casey Jones Swift (07/15/11-11/30/23) was an unexpected puppy. Literally. When Sarah and I were looking for a dog, I was adamant about having a golden retriever. I always wanted one. We were insanely lucky to find him, and because he was a ‘love puppy’, part of an unscheduled litter, we were able to get him at a price that I could afford. We thought about it, talked about it, and agreed that “Red” (the breeder’s name for him, based on his bandana’s color) would be part of our family. I took one look at him and called him “Casey Jones”.
We drove up to Tennessee, picked him up, and welcomed him into our lives. I’ve heard the phrase “Dogs are with you for a short time, but you are with them their entire lives” to show that we need to be grateful and kind to them. What that phrase does not show, however, is that the short time they are with us can mean the world to us. I wouldn’t grasp that until very recently.
Casey about to discover the joy of couches.
I called him a ‘gun dog’ as he grew up because he was a true companion of a pet. He didn’t take to formal training but learned all of my personal cues and commands for things. As a puppy, he was chaotic and a ball of energy. Goldens, in case you don’t know, are known to hold on to their ‘puppy stage’ mindset a lot longer than other dogs. Casey was a puppy all his life.
But also like other Goldens, Casey was sweet to people, and patient with other dogs. Even when a second Golden joined the pack: Joseph ‘Jojo’.
Casey being Big Brother to the second Old Man.
Casey grew used to me working long hours and made me make up for it by spending a LOT of time playing, walking, and roughhousing.
Casey about to pull me out of my chair.
When Jojo joined the pack, he became a bit calmer and helped the young one learn how to be a proper Swift.
Casey being patient with his little brother.
As the years passed, the family grew. He met the new humans that joined the pack and treated them with the same love and patience he had shown everyone else.
Casey being Han’s pillow.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that Casey started “showing his age”. When he was 8, he started making sure that he was always nearby us instead of chasing squirrels in the yard. He kept that habit up for the rest of his life.
Casey watching the squirrels.
He was diagnosed with heart problems and was put on a daily medicine that, I think, prolonged his life for a couple of years. But those years showed just how much he had aged.
Old men being brothers.
On November 30, 2023, I came home from work knowing that my Old Man wasn’t feeling good. His hip dysplasia was hurting (I knew, because my knees were hurting) and he wasn’t wanting to eat. I had my suspicions but was confident that we would make the vet appointment the next day. I told Sarah I’d sleep on the couch so our Old Man wouldn’t have to walk to the bedroom, since he pretty much followed me everywhere I went nowadays.
At 8:20PM, Casey started coughing. I jumped off the couch, ready to help him. He gave a struggled breath, looked up at me as cradled his head, and…
I watched the light in his eyes leave.
I wasn’t ready. I broke.
I held him in my arms and broke. I cried and keened. I was not ready to have this part of my soul leave. I didn’t want it to happen. I didn’t understand at that moment that my friend was going away. I didn’t want to.
But Casey… was gone. He had said his goodbyes… and it was his time. He gave us twelve years of his life and love.
We will cherish every moment. He was a good boy. The best.
The session last night was epic, and I’m somewhat proud of myself for planning it out the way I had. I’ll be going over the notes and working it into a story format, but the party was just excellent with their choices and abilities.
I’m getting spoiled by having competent players.
But it’s Sunday, and I need to do my house-spouse duties.
Don’t mean I don’t have to wear the hat, though.
Lot of chores need doing before I can justify a writing sprint, but thanks to the doctor prescribing medications for the sinus infections, I can actually function without saying “existence is pain!” like any other Meeseek.
Of course, I also get an audience while I try to clean the house.
So unhelpful, but dammit they’re adorable.
Stay safe out there, readers. Gonna try for a writing sprint this evening.
Swift's Corner 