Jazmen & Me

A few months ago, I was visiting my Grandma and seen the book Marley & Me in her basket of books. I had seen the movie, and cried like a little bitch, but I had never read the book. After talking to her about the book for a little while, she told me that I could have it. Well as disappointed as I may be at myself, I just recently started to read the book. I got to say, it is one of the best dog books that I have ever read, aside from my favorite book of all time Old Yeller. See, I am an animal lover by nature. I have had dogs since I was young. We had cats too, and a brief stint at raising rabbits, but I am unquestionably a dog person. If you are a cat person, I am sorry, but cats do not compare to the love and companionship that a dog gives you. If you are like me, and grew up with dogs, then you always have that one dog that you remember the most. I have had a lot to choose from, but there is only one dog that I have ever had that was my best friend.

I was in third grade, and had been getting in trouble a lot in school and at home. I don’t know exactly why I was acting out, I honestly do not remember. I do remember one night having a blow out with my parents, for reasons that I fail to recall. I think we had gone out to eat, but the climax of the argument happened in the parking lot of our local Kroger. As we sat there in our vehicle going back and forth my dad asked me, “why are you acting this way, what is wrong?” It was one of the few ties that I ever remember my dad actually asking why I was acting the way I was. Whether or not it was the truth, which I am pretty sure it was not, I told him that I wanted a dog. I honestly do not know where exactly that came from; we already had at least two dogs in our household at that time. My dad pointed this out to me, and I reminded him that Maybelline, a Chihuahua, was my brother’s dog and Chaco, a mutt found in the middle of the road, was the family’s dog. Now that I think about it, Chaco really wasn’t the family’s dog. He was just a dog that our family owned, but no one really considered him their dog or our dog. Really, this was probably because he was stuck on a chain, which is yet another reason that chaining a dog is horrible.

But I wanted a dog of my own, one that no one else could say was theirs or take away from me. Finally, my dad gave into my whims and agreed to look for me a dog. What I had in mind were the dogs of legend. I pictured a dog that wanted to be around me all the time, one that was perfectly content to just sit around with me, but also wanted to play. I did not grow up in a neighborhood with ample kids around to play with. It was always just my brother and me, and whatever dog we had at the time. My brother was getting older and was starting to leave me behind, so I needed a dog of my own to compensate for his absence. Or at least that is what I was deluding myself with. In reality, I probably watched Beethoven and thought that I needed to have a dog in my life so that it would be perfect like in the movie. The only reason I say Beethoven is because that was one of my favorite movies growing up and I originally wanted a St. Bernard.

A little while after the parking lot dog wish thing, my dad came into my room and woke me up. He was one of those weird men that still used a CB radio as a means of regular communication. One of his CB buddy’s dog had just had a litter of puppies. They were not St. Bernard, but they were somewhat similar if by nothing more than hairiness. The parents were both full blooded Chow Chow, or as I have always called them just Chow.

My dad was more than thrilled to have me have a Chow. He had one growing up and, although most other people would disagree, thought it was the perfect dog for a child. He was wrong in a certain regard, but not the one that most people would think.

Chows have the unfortunate reputation of being grouped with other breeds of dogs, including the Pit Bull Terrier, as aggressive. This is not why I would disagree with my dad about it being the perfect breed of dog for a child. If a Chow has a relationship with a child, or any human being, they would rather prefer to die than to let that person come to harm. They are not overtly aggressive they are just overtly protective. Why I disagree with him is because Chows are one of the weird breeds of dogs, behaviorally. They are not known to be hyper or high strung like some dogs. They just don’t have the pack mentality that most dogs have. They are very love dogs and develop deep relationships with people but they are very independent, more like a cat than a dog. It is strange because Chows are one of the oldest breeds in the world, originally coming from China where they are referred to as Songshi Quan, which literally means “puffy-lion dog.” Although I feel I must note, that lions are one of the few feline species that do have a pack nature, but at least they got the feline part right. Which also I must note, the Chinese name is most likely in reference to the breed’s characteristic ‘lion mane.’ But I tried for a good analogy anyways.

A few weeks later, we made a visit to my dad’s friend’s house to see the bunch and pick out which one I wanted. It took me a remarkably short time to decide which one I liked the best. She was a solid black ball of fur, looking more like a bear cub than a dog. After I had made my choice on which puppy I wanted, I had to think of a name. This process took a greater amount of time to decide. I wanted something unique, cool, and pretty. My mum made the suggestion of Jasmine, which I initially did not like because it was plane. After a while, I decided that Jasmine was going to be it, but wanting to be original, I always spelled it Jazmen.

We brought her home the day before father’s day. I remember this because I remember thinking that it was a bit unfair that she was not going to get to see her dad on father’s day. Like she really even knew or cared that the big ass black dog that she had shared a pen with was her dad, or that tomorrow was father’s day. But I was in fourth grade and it made sense to me, at the time. I must have gotten into trouble for some unknown reason because I distinctly remember my parents and brother playing with my puppy while I was forced to sit in my room when we finally got home. When I finally got to play with her, it was love at first sight. She was definitely my dog.

The first night she slept in my room and I remember not sleeping much because I was constantly either wanting to play with her or checking on her sleep. In the morning her pawing at me and whining wanting to go outside. We never really had a problem with house breaking her. I got up and took her out. My dad was already up and we both walked around outside as she did her business. This was going to be the first time she ever met another dog, other than the ones she had known since birth. Chaco was outside on his chain. We carefully hatched a plan to walk her over near and let them introduce themselves in a natural, not forced manner.

Chaco ran up to me to great me. He really did not pay much attention to the little fur ball on a rope at first, but when he did finally notice that this little thing smelt new he started sniffing furiously at her. She really did not like the sniffing and kind of backed up, as you would expect most puppies to do. This, more than quadruple her size, stranger was sniffing the hell out of her as if she was a piece of meat whose expiration date was questionable.

Chaco soon realized that this was just another dog, as him and Maybelline were good friends, and he wanted to play. Chaco stuck his butt up into the air as he crouched down to play with his new friend. Jazmen still a little freaked out by the obsessive sniffing was standing by my feet. As Chaco made a fake lunging motion in a hope to get her to play with him, Jazmen defended her and my lives with savage ferocity. She erupted in a battle cry or bravery as she launched her full scale assault on his territory and went to attack its king. She went for the closest part of him to her and the ground, which turned out to be his nose, and charged head on. Chaco could have ended the assault and my puppy’s life right then and there, but he did not. He backed down from his playful attempt before her sharp puppy teeth ever made contact. Soon after they became good friends and eventually lovers.

After the first weekend of having her, we put her up in our shop, a massive garage in our back yard, while we were at school and work. When I came home, I expected her to have destroyed the place and pooped all over. Again, I were surprised and did not find anything. That is until my dad went upstairs in the shop to get something and discovered that Jazmen had left him a few surprises. As proud of her as we were that she had not crapped in the garage all this time, she did not want to let us down and hid her droppings upstairs.

Chows are known to be aggressive dogs, which I think is a joke. Everyone was afraid of Jazmen, simply because of her breed. Also if the sun hit her eyes just right they would glow reddish, which was pretty freaky. But I honestly have no clue why people are afraid of Chows. Sure, they have been known to attack, but usually there is a reason why they did that, like with virtually all dogs. Sure, they have a black tongue, which is kind of weird but not unheard of. If anyone ever took the time to meet Jazmen properly, they would soon realize there was not a mean bone in her body.

She only ever growled at a person, that I know of, twice. Once was at me and I wanted her to do it. It was shortly after I got her, when she was finally left alone outside, on that god forsaken chain. I had taken her food away from her, intentionally knowing that she may growl. She growled and I gave her a firm kick to the side. Not hard enough to hurt her, but firm enough to let her know that I was not playing. After that I could forget to feed her for a day and then take her food away and she would just look at me as if saying,  please give me my food back. The other time she allegedly snapped at my dad’s friends leg, only getting his jeans, while he was in her garage. I say allegedly because I was not there, and I do not know what caused her to do this. Other than those two times, she never displayed any aggression toward anyone, human or animal alike. Her two best friends were my solid white cat named snowball and I. Snowball had full range of Jazmen’s dog house, where they spent cold winter nights together, and Jazmen’s food bowl and water bucket if she got hungry or thirsty while visiting.  

Jazmen was an excellent dog; she was my best friend growing up. I would spend afternoons just chilling with her outside. As much as I loved her, I do wish I would have never gotten her though, or at least waited until I was older. I always felt somewhat disconnected from her physically and emotionally.

Physically, because she had to live her life on a chain in the back yard. This is never a good idea. One it is not fair to the dog, no living being deserves to be chained up their entire lives. It is also not fair to the owner. If you keep a dog outside on a chain, it is easier to forgotten them. I never forgot Jazmen; I always knew that she was there. But she did not play an active part in my life as I had hoped for, because it was such an inconvenience to spend time with her. It is like an ailing grandparent in a nursing home; sure, you may go see them every so often, but they are not a major part of your life. Without a dog being a major part of your life, they become a side part that can be looked over.

Emotionally I never felt connected to her as I had imagined when I was young. This was not because of her; she was just being herself, a chow. Once again, it was my failing that lead to this. I failed to understand the Chow breed until I got much older. Chows are extremely independent dogs. They have a deep devotion to their family, but don’t feel the need to show it all the time like say a Labrador does. I wanted a dog that would want to be around me 24/7, but that is just not how Chows are. They love attention, but after a little while of petting and affection, they will go on and do their own thing, whether you are done or not. This bothered me for a long time, until I realized that just because Jazmen did not want to be stuck up under my ass all the time, did not mean that she did not love me.

Unfortunately, it was not until the very end of her life that I realized this. I had already moved off to college, virtually forgot about her. My parents had told me that she was blind. I finally got home to see them and Jazmen, to decide what to do with her. They had told me they were thinking about putting her down, because she was going on eleven years old and was blind and going deaf, but they would not do anything until I gave them the okay. I stood there at the back door looking at my childhood best friend, running through our lives together in my mind. She looked pitiful. She was greatly in need of a brushing, laying there on her chain, staring off into nothingness. This was my oldest friend, and I was considering shooting her in the head to end her suffering. I looked down at the rifle in the corner before I walked outside onto the back porch and stood there for a few minutes, still debating my decision. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. As I approached she began to cautiously wag her tail. I reached down and said, “Hey girl, how have you been?” and her tail began to wag furiously as if she had been reunited with her best friend after a long absence. After all that time, she had still remembered who I was and I knew then that I would always hold a special place in her heart. I felt horrible for ever doubting her love for me. I was still and always her best friend, even if I was too stupid to realize it. I could not shoot her. I could not even humanely euthanize her, I just could not betray her trust that way.

The last time I ever seen my best friend, was the week before she died. I had gone to my brother’s house, my childhood home, for a visit. Before we left, I went outside and tried to play with her. She was getting old now, and it was showing. She was thirteen now, two years after I had considered killing her to end her suffering. I stood on the porch and called her name. She only softly wagged her tail. I said her name again and she she barely moved her head. I got down and walked over to her and she did not move, only quickened her wagging pace a little. It pained me so much to see her lying there. I knew that she did not have much longer, but I also knew that I had to leave shortly. I stayed there with her until my brother started getting mad at me because he was ready to leave. The last thing I ever told her was, “I love you girl. You have been an amazing dog and the best friend, even if I wasn’t always the best friend. Don’t hold on for me anymore. I love you.” I knew that that would probably be the last time I ever seen her.

A week later, I got a call from my brother early Saturday  morning while I was still in bed. I answered the phone half asleep. I just remember him saying, “Jazmen died last night. Diesel [his dog] found her this morning.” I laid there in my bed in a strange juxtaposition of grief and relief. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I said, “At least she is not on that god damn chain anymore, now she is not suffering anymore and can run free.” My brother took care of all of the arrangements, and buried her for me. He kept her collar for me, which I initially wanted. But then after I picked it up, I realize that I really did not want that memory. I did not want the memory of her chained her entire life, never knowing what it was like to run around to her own content.

I unconditionally loved Jazmen, she was my best friend. That being said, I do regret ever getting her. I was not prepared to care for her myself, provide her with a place to run, mature enough to care for her like she needed, nor stable enough to be there when she needed me most. It should have been me to find her, but it wasn’t. I was a horrible friend to her, but she never stopped loving and caring for me.

Her name, Jazmen, was based on the Jasmine plant. A few years ago, I bought two of these plants for our yard. Now that I think of it, she was a lot like Jasmine. She was hardy and could withstand almost anything. No matter what she rarely backed down. You could leave her alone and she would be content, but she always benefitted from a little attention. She was never an attention hog, and really did not need nor want much of it. And most importantly, her personality was like the scent of Jasmine flowers, subtly sweet and gently.