Jamestown Afternoon

By Carrie Jacobson

For better or worse, and believe me, it’s both, Peter and I have seven dogs, all rescues, all with issues, many in varying stages of decrepitude.

We’ve had a spate lately of accidents that, while horrifying at first, have ended up with no injuries but have left me wondering just what the heck we’ve gotten ourselves into here.

One of the dogs, Zoe, is just plain blind and now nearly deaf, too. But she is a Lhasa apso, quick on the draw and aggressively protective.

Another of the dogs, Kaja – a German shepherd/chow mix – is about 14, shaky and arthritic, stone deaf, half-blind and increasingly unwilling to watch where she’s going. She’s decided she is going to walk wherever she wants to walk, and if there’s a bad-tempered Lhasa apso in the way, so what.

Kaja steps on Zoe, who jumps up snarling, but of course, Kaja is completely deaf, and the alpha dog to boot, so the little one might just as well be a flea, or less, far as she’s concerned.

Lately, Kaja has taken to walking into the water bowl and knocking it over, oh, two or three times a day. Our kitchen floor has never been cleaner.

She has figured out that we will give her pretty much anything that she wants, now, so she will turn her nose up at regular dog food and wait until we give her the good stuff (canned food) or better yet, pieces of our own meals.

And you know what? At 14, she deserves whatever tastes good to her, that’s what I think.

The bad-tempered Pekingese, now 14 himself and pretty much deaf, growls and snarls for the heck of it, also aiming much of his ill temper at Kaja, who I believe goes out of her way to step on him.

The ancient Samoyed, 98 percent blind and the sweetest dog in the world, crashed down a short set of steps this morning into the basement, where no dog has ever been. He is fine, but the big lummox was trembling like a leaf in my arms.

His sworn enemy, a bichon with neuroses and deep-seated and inexplicable hatred of the Samoyed, stood at the top of the steps and barked nastily as I hauled the Samoyed up.

So we go on, our aged and aging dogs growing more and more dear, as they accompany us into the latter part of our lives. Sometimes I am sad beyond words at all of us. Sometimes their crashes and bickering, their bad tempers and refusals, just make me laugh, and make me glad to be alive.

All of which has nothing to do with this painting, but is something I was thinking about this Sunday morning.

What about you? Are your pets helping you deal with the passing of the years?

This painting is oil on canvas, 16×20. If you want price or delivery information, please email me at carrieBjacobson@gmail.com