Today my family's dog, Deja, passed away. She was a tough old girl, a Shetland Sheepdog who lived 2 years beyond her vet-given expiration date. One could say that she was just super-strong and staved off cancer like a trouper. But we often joked that she just didn't realize she was sick, that she was oblivious that she was supposed to be moving on from this world...some time ago. So she stuck around for quite a while and surprised everyone.
She made it through 15½ years.
My family, we're dog people, and we're the sort who consider our pets as family members. Our dogs get portraits painted of them—by my grandmother, Libby LaSala (you rock, Nana!)—and they each seem to have more photo albums than either my brother or I. We loved our dogs.
We lost Thumper, our previous dog, after only seven years—much too soon. It was a heart-breaking and fast-acting incident. But Deja? She more than doubled Thumper's age, lived out a long and happy doggy life, replete with good table scraps, sprinkler chases, frisbee-throwing runs, an endless stream of mischievous antics, and of course a hand-puppet penguin archenemy. (All dogs need their own nemesis.)
Her full name was Déjà Vu. I think we named her that, in part, because we tried to have another Thumper, and it's no coincidence we chose another Sheltie. What we got was no replacement, just another wonderful dog.
My brother, incidentally, wanted to name her Jabberwocky. Another day, John.
Deja was a howler. Shelties normally aren't. As a newborn pup, she hung out with a litter of Alaskan Malamute (the Siberian Husky lookalike breed), and they taught her their wolfish song. We heard it often: whenever she was lonely and sometimes, it seemed, just for the hell of it. It also became an unwelcome rooster wake-up call set to go off well before any conventional alarm clock. My parents, and many houses guests, can testify. It was sometimes adorable, but usually it was annoying, heard most often in the wee hours of the morning. Now we'll miss it badly.
And fondly remember 16 years of good memories. I was a junior in high school when we got her, just a fuzzy little dog in ball form that stuck to our family like canine Velcro®. Since 1995, I've only seen her when I've seen my parents—on holidays and occasional weekends.
My brother called Deja a positive force in the world. And she absolutely was. She was a furry little piece of the animal kingdom set loose in our civilized world. A tiny piece of the wild, a shard of chaos and levity running amok in our home that kept us sane with her insanity. Most dogs are that way. And Deja's particular brand of sweetness and sassiness made everyone like her. She was friendly with everyone, once she stopped barking at them. She embodied man's best friend.
Sleep well, Deja. We dearly miss you.
And say "hi" to Thumper for us, would you? She's most likely hanging out by the food bowls, eating the other dogs' breakfast, lunch, and dinner in Doggy Elysium.
Jeff and LaSala's: I'm so sorry for your loss. It's always so gratifying to hear about a dog who had a wonderful life and family. So many others aren't so lucky. I'm glad that you had Deja and Deja had you.
Jeff,
Your memorial to Deja was beautifully done. I've known Deja for about seven years. Your comment "She was friendly with everyone, once she stopped barking at them. She embodied mans' best friend", was a perfect summation. I always made a point of greeting the little girl (always using puppy talk) immediately upon entering your parents' home. True-to-form, Deja would do that funny hooty bark for about a minute, then she'd advance to receive love. I'm sad today, but knowing that she's safe and playing with Thumper (and very likely making acquaintances with our beloved dogs of-past) makes me happy.
Bill
Jeff - thank you for the memorial. As usual, your words were spot on and your picture story captured her perfectly. I had trouble reading your post last night, but today I could. Still very hard, with all of the memories of her life around us. And although she was living on borrowed time, and we have been preparing for this for almost two years, the finality is brutal. We will remember her always, especially in the context of family get-togethers, for she was truly part of our family.
Love,
Dad
Jeff this was wonderful and amazing. Thank you for sharing your family memories with us......I knew/met Deja several times in Michigan (that's where we met and fell in love with your parents) and your Mother has cradled me through the loss of two previous Shar-pei's (your Mother even cross-stitched a beautiful Shar-pei tray for me). I will never forget the term "defining silence" after the loss, because that's what it truly was. We had been told to wait a while to go through your grieving and your Mother said, "bolony! the only thing that's going to make you feel better is another pup, now go out and get one" and I think we did that very day. Our breeder had e-mailed us a site for an Alabama breeder that he recommended. The pup had been kept for 5 months, the Breeder always hoping that she would grow tall enough to show, because she was so perfect and beautiful......it never happened, so we got her, picked her up in Palm Springs, where the Breeder had a show. Everyone said how beautiful she was (red w/a black muzzle) and as we drove onto CA to visit our Granddaughter's I got to thinking beautiful = Bella in spanish......hemmm...then we saw our beautiful red headed granddaughter, who immediately fell in love and strongly attached to Bella and her nickname is 'red'....so....hence Bella "Rosa".......so the red fluff that fills and blesses our lives and so many in our Community(5am daily walks around the park lake) and Church (up to the Church office every chance she gets) is here because of your Mom and her nuturing us in our loss and encouragement to move forward. I loved what you said when you spoke of "not replacing", but an incredible addition & presence all their own. thanks, Jeff and Joyce! love you muchly, AZ Michele
I only met Deja one time, but Thumper was such a fun dog, I loved watching her. Everything but her bark was wonderful. I teared up reading this having said good-bye to Max a year or two ago. He too outlived what the vets said and died at 16 1/2.
I know you are missing the click click, shuffle she had, there is something about the constant being there of an old dog. It is hard to say good-bye.
Lilly is curled up on my couch and although she and Lucie drive me crazy I can't imagine life with out a dog, and haven't done it but for a few months when I was first married...I think I lasted two months in Oklahoma.
The adventure continues but we never forget the old dogs that were so much a part of our lives.
This is a loving tribute to Deja. I was lucky enough to have known Deja for many years and am witness to the amount of love she received from her family. One might say she was a lucky dog but I'd argue that we are the lucky ones who had a chance to know her. Deja, you will be truly missed. I'll miss seeing your pointy snout peeking through the table cloth relentlessly begging for food during family functions. Bye, Deja, till we meet again. Say Hi to my dad for me, he always liked you.
Happy trails to you, Deja! When you get to the other side, I hope you connect with other canine pals who knew you over the years. Of course your family will miss you terribly, how could they not? We have happy memories of you . . . lots of great stories . . . one of our favorites had to do with your doggie treats being consumed and enjoyed by John. I'd howl too if someone ate my favorite cookies!
Jeff, you have captured her life perfectly. Thank you. You even made us laugh. It is so quiet in the house tonight. I know we'll wake in the morning early expecting that annoying howl and the silence will be deafening. We were fortunate to have her in our lives for so many years. Now the wonderful memories of her will keep us going until we are once again reunited. We love you Deja, we know your spirit is running free once more.