July 6th

29C sunny.
Great day and me with a flu bug or something.
Might have to go to a walk-in clinic.

Here is more on Jerry, There should be one more day after this to conclude.

FOOTNOTE

  It is true, over the years, I have told and retold many of the anecdotes of Uncle Jerry’s life. It is strange because as I felt the compulsion to produce this story and to even ridiculously call it an autodoggraphy, I felt at times disassociated from the very things my fingers typed.

  That feeling is further strengthened by the fact that some of these events were in my head yet I would have had no way of knowing about them; some of the other events or situations were actually contrary to how I personally remembered them. Yet here they are!

  I have decided to add a few pages to this story. These pages are reproduced from stories I wrote about Jerry many years ago. If they differ in anyway from the story you have just read, then I leave it to you the reader to make your own conclusions.

John Little.

JOHN’S MEMORIES

The following is reproduced from my first attempt at writing down a few of my memories of “Uncle” Jerry.  JHL.

Uncle Jerry:

Uncle Jerry wasn't really a person; he was a dog!  He was a small sort of runty black cocker spaniel.  He was given to me on my 5th birthday by Grandma Little.  His name was of course really just Jerry but my Dad always said he was too much of a character and with his human traits he must be somebody’s Uncle.  He was a feisty little devil and he would fight any male dog he came across, size didn't matter.  He also chased every female; size didn't matter!  I don't know if he ever did win a fight.  He traveled and adapted to all the places we lived.  There are numerous little stories about him but far to many to tell all.

When we lived at Port Hardy, we had one winter that was quite cold and we had lots of snow.  Jerry developed rheumatism and could hardly move without crying.  He just wanted to stay behind the stove and soak up the heat.  When we felt he had to go to the bathroom we would carefully pick him up and carry him out side and put him down so he could carry out what ever was necessary.  This was usually done with much whimpering.  After we would as gently pack him back in.  We kept his food and water dishes fairly close to him so he could with a minimum of effort reach both.  One day when Mom was preparing one of his meals, my Dad was watching, he suddenly took my Mom to one side and said something quietly. She put the dish on the cupboard and went and got her coat and said, "come on Jerry lets go for a walk"!  Well that dog came out from behind the stove like a shot, danced around on two feet and four feet and yipped and yapped and headed for the door.  Dad was standing by the door and when he opened it and Uncle Jerry had a look at the snow, he put on the brakes, started walking like he vas crippled and started whimpering.

Well he got pushed right out that door and when he came in a few minutes later, he never looked at any one, but he didn't limp and he didn't whine. The rheumatism was cured!

Years later when I got my first job with the Forest Service and went to Pocahantas Lookout I took Jerry with me.  I had to pack up all my food and water. Food every two weeks and water usually once a week.  The water hole was at the end of the road and that was about a mile down the mountain.  I learned after the first couple of trips not to take Jerry down the hill with me, because when we got back he was always so thirsty he would slurp down a huge quantity of water (I never figured out how a small dog could drink so much).  One

day I had just finished packing up groceries, which included a package of chocolate éclairs.  These were a favorite of mine so I ate about half the package, watched closely by the dog, but I didn't share.  Then I decided to go and get water. I left the package on the table, which was 10 - 12 inches from my bed.  I shut Jerry in the building and went down for my water.   I got back about an hour or so later and as I was standing on the walk outside unloading my pack of water I looked inside.  Uncle Jerry was lying on the bed with the éclair package between his front paws.  As my eyes met his, he grabbed the package and jumped to the floor and dove under the bed.  By the time I got the pack of my back and got inside, he was laying on the floor on the far side of the bed, no cookies left, just the empty package and a truly defiant look in his eyes between us!

I didn't even get after him other than a scolding.  Who was the pig?

When I finished on the mountain I took him back home to my parents, as it was impossible to have him with me.

All of his life when he would greet me after I had been away for a day, a week, a month or two hours he would go into the darndest contortions and make a cross between a moaning whining and yipping sound.  This usually culminated in me hugging, patting and scratching his back in that order.  He of course deteriorated over time; eye sight and hearing.  After I left home he would always greet me when I returned but as time went by, sometimes it would take him a little while to realize that I was back, but sooner or later he would remember and the ritual would start.

He lived till he was 18 and he was then so old and so blind and so deaf that he had to be put down.  Even in dying he was very stubborn.  There was no vet so my Mom managed to gather some sleeping pills and together with a bunch of aspirins slipped them into some of his favorite food.  Well he slept and snored behind the stove for two days and didn't show any sign of leaving to wait for us in some future time. Finally Dad asked an RCMP friend to do the deed.  I guess after they both had a little cry.  I'm afraid after all this time as I am typing this I am having one too.  As long as Mom and Dad lived there, whenever I went back, I would often hear him at the door so real that many times I would inadvertently go to let him in, sometimes I actually opened the door before I remembered. 

He was my best friend and I guess I loved him dearly.