Our family dog Jimi died two years ago this month.  I recently found a picture of him and did the collage posted here. A few days after he passed, I wrote a eulogy to him.  I thought I’d repost it here in case anyone wants to read it.

Eulogy for a Four Legged Friend. (Feb 2007)

I need to preface this with the following: Most people who know me know that I’m not much of a “dog person”. This is pretty much tantamount to being “un-American” in the eyes of the dog-loving public….especially in the kayaking world. It isn’t that I hate all dogs, there are lots of dogs that I like. There are also many that I am not fond of.   I’m going to tell you a story of the one that I’ve been the fondest of….and perhaps this will explain some of the reasons that I feel the way I do about canines. I met Jimi, a black lab puppy with absurdly large ears and white patches on his chest and foot, while I was working as the head of the kayaking program at Camp Daniel Boone in North Carolina.He was a “camp dog”, and he wandered around all summer hanging out with various members of the staff. For some reason, he eventually took a liking to me. My bed was a cheap twin mattress resting directly on the floor of a crowded 4 person cabin, and Jimi started falling asleep with me most nights. From that point on, he was my dog. That summer was one of the greatest of my life. It was my 3^rd summer of kayaking, and I’d lucked out and gotten a job at the same camp where I’d learned to paddle. Days off were spent traveling to the likes of the mighty Nantahala and Pigeon rivers, each trip like a multi-day expedition to me and my kayaking com padres. I was 17, and I’d grown up with Dachshunds all my life, I’d never had a lab. I remember calling my parents, talking them into letting me bring this rambunctious puppy home with me, pulling out all the stops like a door-to-door salesman selling vacuums. They reluctantly agreed, and I toted this little fellow home with me at the end of that summer. Little did we know what a member of the family Jimi would become. Is it possible for a dog to exhibit “good moral character”? I’m reluctant to assign human traits to animals, for I feel animals are much more interesting when we allow them to be just animals. (I could also make the case that we, too, are merely animals, but that’s a subject better left for another time). I know everyone loves their dog, and much like children, every dog is the “greatest-in-the-world” to their respective owners, but Jimi was very special indeed.  Many years ago on one hot summer day, my best friend Ben, a known troublemaker, dove into our swimming pool, swam out to the middle, looked at Jimi, and began to pretend he was drowning, shouting “HELP HELP!” while thrashing about in the water, allowing his head to submerge from time to time. Jimi began to bark, and run back and forth, and moments later he dove in and swam out to where Ben was pretending to take his last breath. He’d jumped in to save Ben, thinking he was in serious trouble. I knew on that day that Jimi was a very loyal and special creature. Jimi never barked for the sake of barking, as many frustrating dogs in every neighborhood I’ve ever lived in do. You knew that when Jimi started barking, you’d better go outside and see what was the matter….because either someone was breaking into the house (more likely the meter man was doing a reading), there was some sort of wild animal pillaging the cat’s food, or some other potentially nefarious situation was afoot. He was a beautiful dog, small for a lab, but lean and rippling with muscle. He never got that “barrel chest” that many labs get later in life. He could clear a 5 foot fence in a single leap, and I knew that if anyone ever tried to harm my family, he’d die trying to save us. This isn’t to say that Jimi was aggressive….far from it. He was nice and cordial to any new friend’s that stopped by, provided they had the proper credentials. Most people who met Jimi returned for future visits. He loved to run, and jump and play in our huge yard, even into his old age. I’d taught him how to sit, as I made him do it ever time I fed him, but unfortunately I failed miserably in teaching him how to fetch. No, for Jimi fetch was far too boring, he preferred his own version of the game….more akin to keep-away.  The game went something like this: A “contestant” would throw a sitck, ball, or other toy. Jimi would run at top speed to grab it, often over running it. He’d walk back to near where the “contestant” was standing, confidently, but carefully, walking into arms range, where he would gently lay the toy on the ground and look at his nemesis with a sideways glance. The “contestant” would reach out to take the toy back from him, getting perilously close. With reflex’s normally exhibited by the feline variety, Jimi would spring into action, lowering his head, grabbing the item, and sprinting away, looking back over his shoulder in hopes that he’d be chased after. He could do this for what seemed like hours, until eventually the poor contestant was too tired or too frustrated to “play” anymore. Before he got too big, sometimes he’d ride around some flatwater on the sprayskirt of my kayak. He loved riding around town in my old Isuzu Amigo, sitting proudly upright in the passenger seat, watching the scenery passing by the window. He seemed to get depressed when daylight savings time, and colder temperatures arrived. On overcast days he’d prefer to stay in his doghouse, peering out in hopes that his beloved sunshine would return soon. He did, however, love the snow, and the few times we had enough snow over the past decade to stick to the ground, he’d run around in it kicking up flakes, his black fur contrasting against the white landscape. When I graduated high school and went off to college, Jimi stayed at my parents house. I regrettably saw much less of him, and I am sad to think of the many times that I had a chance to spend more time with him while home….but instead I was too busy with girls or some other less rewarding pursuit. However, I often made some time to run wild with him while home, and up until a few months ago, he was always game for it. My parents became very close to Jimi. My father grew up in farm country. He’s had animals he cared about, but not one he really seemed to have a true connection with. I always thought that old farm upbringing precluded him from really getting close to a pet. But he and my mom both seemed to gravitate to Jimi more and more as the years wore on, perhaps due to the absence of myself and my siblings in the house. These past few months they’ve taken such close care of Jimi, and I am so thankful that he’s had their love. Thinking about Jimi all day today I realized something. Perhaps, in a weird way, Jimi has been the “rock” of my family. The constant in a sea of change. He’s been with us through accidents, divorces, personal issues, and various other family crisis’s. He’s seen me through my first serious girlfriend, through many painful breakups, and most recently the implosion of my relationship with my ex-fiance.  He’s been with us when family members have entered this world, and when family members have exited this world. Through it all he’s been a friend and a confidant, always there with a goofy grin and a desire to bring joy. He never faltered, never took a day off from doing his job, the only job a dog has, just being a dog. But he was much more than just a dog. He was there for me as I made the transition from childhood to adulthood.  He was there for me at the beginning of my life as a paddler, and he’s seen me through to where I am now in my paddling career. Over the past few months, Jimi’s seemingly eternal youth faded a bit. His shoulder began to give out. The vet tried all sorts of medicines and treatments, and my friend Will even gave us some special powder that seemed to help a bit, but in the end the only thing we could do was to “make him comfortable.” His rotator cuff quickly deteriorated, making it harder and harder for him to get around. Always wanting to please, he’d try so hard to get up to come see a visitor, even when told to just rest and stay put. I saw him a few times over the past weeks, and it’s been so hard seeing him like that. It really broke my heart. I know it weighed heavily on my parents as well, as they diligently did everything in their power to make him more comfortable. Last week I made a special trip to see him, and I spent some time alone with Jimi. I knew in my heart that this would probably be the last time I’d see him. I sat with his head in my lap, petting his ears. I whispered to him that everything was going to be ok, that he was a good dog, and that he didn’t need to fight anymore. Yesterday morning I had a voice mail from my father. He just said “Call me when you get a chance,” but I knew what he was calling to tell me. I called him back and he said “Jimi died this morning.” He was there with him when he took his last breath, and I am glad for that. I’ve not witnessed my dad crying many times in my life, and I’ve never seen him cry about a pet passing on. But as he told me “He was the best dog we’ve ever had,” he and I both started to bawl, I could hear my mom crying in the background. We can’t know for sure if there is another place beyond this life. But if there is, I hope Jimi is there, he certainly deserves to be, indeed, probably more than many people I’ve known do. I had a long drive yesterday to think about all this. I thought about memories encompassing the past decade + of my life, and I thought of the times I spent with Jimi. I also thought about why I’m not much of a dog person. Why don’t I warm up to many dogs?  I discovered that the answer is pretty simple. I’ve met the greatest dog I could ever hope to meet. One that, to me, was the most loyal a boy, indeed a whole family, could ever have. He made an impression on myself and my whole family, in a way that no other pet has, and none probably ever will.  Many pets are lucky to find owners, I’m lucky that Jimi found me.  Like the guitar player that is his namesake, he is the greatest at what he did that I could ever hope to experience. My dad wrote me today and told me they don’t ever want to have another dog, no other could ever compare, and I agree. So goodbye Jimi-dog. And thanks. Your boy, Joey jimi as a puppy. 1995

photo by Pdogg

I don’t normally get too excited about free photo manipulation apps, but this one is pretty cool. Poladroid is a small program that allows you to convert any photo, via drag and drop interface, into a Polaroid image. I was skeptical about how legit the results but I must say, with the vignetting and the saturation effects, the end product is pretty convincing.  Plus, if the original photo was high res, the “roided” photo is too.

Try it out, I’m so impressed with it I would not rule out using it for some projects.

http://www.poladroid.net/

Spe-diddy put up a nice post about me on his blog…complete with embarrassing photo.
Check it out, thanks brah…

http://effortinc.wordpress.com/2008/09/18/first-of-all-joey-is-a-weener/