posted July 14, 2008
JerryBear. Such a strange name. Such a strange little dog. He was a small dog; a bit bigger than an average chihuahua, but smaller than most terriers. He wasn’t a good-looking dog to most. He wasn’t of fine breeding stock, with a beautiful coat and noble countenance. His pedigree was impossible to guess.
He was a rather silly-looking little fellow, actually. He stood only nine or ten inches at the shoulder, but from the ground to the tips of his radar-like ears he was easily a foot and a half. His coat was brindle, and his eyes were shiny brown, always happy to see me coming. He had a little tail that curved over his back like a furry striped saber, which he almost never stopped wagging. He wasn’t always friendly to strangers, but he loved his family dearly. If not for his diminutive stature, he could have almost seemed ferocious to visitors and company. But, he was a sweet and loving friend to my little girls, and me and Sara.
I rescued JerryBear from the Chattanooga Humane Educational Society when he was only a puppy. I was the kennel supervisor and chief euthanasia technician at HES back then. The great irony of his life was that his salvation came from his nippy disposition to strangers. He was surrendered at the pound, along with ten of his brothers and sisters. They were all euthanized, as were his absolutely vicious parents, who had been surrendered earlier the same month.
But JerryBear bit Jeannie, a kennel worker, on the finger, so he was quarantined for rabies observation for ten days. During those 10 days, that pint-sized pup grew on me. Since he was so tiny, I kept him in a cage in my office for his observation period. I cleaned his little cage, took him out for potty breaks, fed and watered him, and fell in love with him. When his ten days were up, it was time for me to put him to sleep forever. Instead, I put him under my shirt and snuck him out to safety, and a new home.
JerryBear lived with me at my parents while I was staying there. He stayed inside and slept with me every night for a few months, but he wanted to go outside so badly. As he grew, his penchant for chewing on everything, way after his puppyhood was over, forced us to let him stay outside most of the time. He seemed very happy out there, unlike my other dogs that I have now, who love lounging there days away on the couch. He patrolled his fence, kept watch as he perched on the top of his dogloo, and chewed to bits every toy we ever gave him.
My daughter, Lily, would sit with him on the steps out back, talking to him like he was just another kid. When we brought him inside, he would race around the house like a greyhound, running laps like his sporting cousins. But, if the door was cracked open the least bit, he would dart right back outside. He loved being outside. But he also liked sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed.
After I met my future wife, Sara, JB stayed with us at our apartment for awhile. Eventually, I took him back to my parents’ because he wasn’t getting along with a foster dog we had then, and he longed to be outside more than we could let him. After putting him back in his yard, I would go visit him everyday. I would stop by my parents’ on my break or after work to make sure he had clean water and food. I tried to bring him a little something special every week. He really loved Dingo brand rawhide “bones“, and pretty much anything that he could chew to oblivion. He was always beaming when I came to see him. He would run to the gate, roll over on his back and wait for me to rub his belly. He couldn’t get enough of having his belly rubbed. But, he was also always getting himself in a bind, literally.
JB was the greatest escape artist of any dog I’ve ever known. He could jump fences, climb walls, squeeze through impossibly tight spaces, and probably scale buildings or leap over them with a single bound. He could get out of just about anywhere or anything. When I took him back to my parents’, he had to stay on a long runner when he was outside. I also had to get a special collar just to keep him attached to the runner. So, since he was attached to a cable, he was always getting tangled up in improbable positions. One time, he got a tree branch tangled around his head and he looked like a tiny reindeer. When I had my daily visit with JB, it was as much to make sure he wasn’t entangled as to give him fresh food and water.
After Sara and I were married earlier this summer, we brought JB to live with us permanently. He made friends with the dogs and cats, and made himself right at home at the place we live now. He seemed to be very content. He played with Dexter, Sara’s old lab, and he even loved to play with the cats. In fact, he was sort of like a cat. He liked nothing better than to climb up on the back of the couch and lay behind my neck, watching television with me. He also loved to curl up right by my side on the bed every night when it was bedtime. He would sleep there all night, and in the morning, he would give me a little lick to make sure I was awake. As it turned out, he was a great little house dog. He was so happy to be with us and the other animals. I was glad that finally, we could offer him a really good home. Yet, we had to be ever-vigilant that he did not escape our house, or the yard.
I took the day off from work today, July 14, to recover from the big triathlon I competed in yesterday, and to catch up on some household chores. Just before 1 p.m., Sara called to me from the garage. I went down to see what she needed. As I opened the door to the garage, JB streaked past me. He headed straight for the busy street where we live. I chased him, but I could not stop him from running into the street. Just as I made it down to the street, a car came screaming down the road, running him over. He died there in mine and Sara’s arms. There was nothing we could do. JB was dead.
I buried JerryBear under his dogloo today in my parents’ backyard. I thought he should be buried there, since he loved to spend time perched on top of that plastic doghouse, keeping watch over his doggy kingdom.
JerryBear was not a pretty dog. He wasn’t even always a friendly dog. But, he was my dog; and I loved him. He was probably a dog that only a dogcatcher, his kids, and his veterinarian wife could love. Nonetheless, he will be sorely missed by his family.
JerryBear, we love you. We wish you a safe journey to the other side, where you can run and play, and chew things up until your heart is content. You were a good little fellow, and a good friend. We will miss you very much. So long, little buddy.
Jonathan Cooper
East Ridge Animal Services Humane Officer
Hamilton County DART Team Member
East Ridge
jcooper952@comcast.net
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