A Tribute To My Jessie Bess ~ When You Have To Say Goodbye To a Best Friend

The past few days have very hard for me....'impossible' might be a better word. It is not because of the election or Hurricane Sandy or any of the thousands of other issues being reported in the news. I just had to say goodbye to a dear friend on Monday, November the 5th....actually I said goodbye to a best friend. His name is, or was, Jessie Bess. At least that is what I called him in my moments of affection. He was an Australian Shepherd mix who graced the lives of me and my family for 13 years. He was a silly, funny, gentle giant of a dog that we rescued when he was 6 months old or so. He was only supposed to be 40 pounds; at least that is what the vet said. He was saved from the side of the road with 6 other siblings when he was 3 months old, and we were assured he was going to stay the size he was. When Jessie Bess hit 85 pounds, we knew something big had gotten into the proverbial woodshed, but we didn't care. By that time, Jessie Bess had already won his way into our hearts.



Jessie Bess was my dad's dog, but like with any angel that is sent into your life, the magic he wielded ensorceled us all. He was so silly and fun. He bit his nails like a nervous teenager, spitting the tips out on the floor once he had managed to coax them free. He spit like a farmer, and you could hear it from across the room. Sometimes, he would toss a back leg over his back and chew his back nails that way. It was sure to bring a bubble of laughter from anyone who saw his silly ways. I think sometimes he did it just to make us laugh. He was just that kind of dog.

Jessie Bess had a hard beginning, and we had many issues which had to be worked through. The first part of his puppy hood was traumatic, and my dad worked tirelessly with Jessie to help the 'good dog' in him come out.  Jessie was scared of everything at first. I can only imagine what he went through before we met him. I tried not to go there because the thought of his suffering was more than I could bear at the time. I simply found myself thanking God that we had Jessie, especially with every triumph in his training and every obstacle he overcame.

 



Jessie Bess was very gentle, we found out and would play with his 'big brother' Happydog (a miniature dachshund) in such a way where Happydog would always be safe. Happydog took playing very seriously, and so often, Jessie Bess would let Happydog win at whatever game they played. It didn't matter to Jessie. He just loved the play and loved his 'big brother'. Jessie was just that kind of dog. When I got my little girl Peanut Pumpkin Pie, a tiny Pomeranian puppy that had captured my heart, Jessie was just as gentle and loving with her. They shared the dog beds and play time, and Jessie endured patiently any puppy tendencies that Peanut had related to him. Frantic lick attacks. Barks in the face. Feverish game of puppy tug of war. It didn't matter to Jessie. He took it all in good strides. Peanut loved him so much and he her!

Peanut grew up with Jessie and over the 8 years they spent together, Jessie became her protector and ours. He saved my mom and Happydog from being attacked by a neighbor's dog. He kept diligent watch when our area was overrun by coyotes looking for a meal. He was our strong boy when we were outside, and he was always on guard when we laid down at night, sleeping wherever he thought was the best vantage point. He was as faithful as it gets. For all his fierce protectiveness, though, Jessie's sweet heart saw himself as a little dog who wanted nothing more than to crawl up in our laps and cuddle when all was well.

 



Jessie Bess loved to play, he loved his 'pack', and he loved his family. He was the best dog in the world. It felt like he would be with us forever. Where my books were concerned, I had it all planned out. Jessie Bess was going to make his debut in book 4 of The Chronicles of Mister Marmee. He was a perfect choice for the storyline. I never thought I would be writing his story after he was gone. I never really saw his age until the very end, when his body began to fail him, and my family and I found ourselves facing what no one ever wants to face...the loss of a best friend.

How do you say goodbye to a best friend? How do you come to terms with the reality that you will never, on this earth, see them again? We tried everything as poor Jessie Bess fought the ravages of age. We bought expensive medicines and tried supplements, bargaining for more time. We steadied his hips as he walked up and down the stairs to go outside. We cleaned up his accidents in the house when he started losing the ability to 'hold it', and we justified those times as being related to the medicine we were giving him. There came a point however when we realized that life had lost its joy for Jessie Bess. He could barely make it up the stairs, and there were times when he would simply collapse. He didn't understand what was happening to him, and we couldn't make things better no matter how hard we tried. Jessie Bess became lost and confused, and we knew he was reaching a point where he wouldn't remember who we were anymore.

It was so hard to see that in his eyes and to know we had ran out of time and things to bargain with. It was the second worst day of my father's life, the day he realized it was time to free Jessie from the darkness while Jessie still knew who my dad was. The worst day of my dad's life was the day he said his final goodbye to his best friend Jessie. I would have given anything to spare my father that pain. My dad was doing the best he could for his faithful little boy, ensuring in his last hour that Jessie Bess was not alone. And now being on the other side of that final act of kindness, mercy and love, we all are suffering from shattered hearts trying to fill the hole where Jessie Bess used to be. It feels like the most unbearable grief, and I wonder to myself whether it will ever ease. I have wondered why it has to hurt so much to say goodbye.

Then I realized it hurts because it is supposed to hurt. I lost a part of myself when I said goodbye to Jessie Bess for the last time. Jessie had become integrated into the very fiber of being, and to lose him was like having a part of me ripped out. Jessie loved me for me, with no strings attached and no demands. He didn't know any other way to be. Jessie's love for me - in spite of all of my faults and imperfections - was a reflection of the kind of love God has for me. Selfless. Unconditional. Pure. Perfect. The pain of Jessie Bess' loss reminds me I am still close to God's heart. The pain I feel means I loved Jessie to the best of my human ability with the right kind of love. I responded to the God-spark in Jessie and embraced it with both hands. Without my passionate love for Jessie, there would be no pain in losing him. So maybe, just maybe, I have a spark of God within me, too.....some remnant of the time in the Garden when things were as God intended....before we got in there and messed it up.

Was it not God who took time to enjoy the beauty of all that He created? Was it not God who saved 8 people and THOUSANDS of animals during the flood? Was it not God who made a covenant with man AND beast after the flood waters receded? Is it not God who knows the name of every sparrow that falls to earth? That kind of love....God's love....is immense, and it was God's love of his animals....His creation....that was first instilled within Adam in the Garden of Eden. Did God not bring each animal to Adam for him to name them? Why would God have asked for such a personal touch on Adam's part if He had not intended there to be a more intimate relationship between Adam and the animals under his care?

 



Perhaps I am over-simplifying things or perhaps I am giving myself way too much credit for the love I had for one faithful, loving dog, but I believe my sweet Jessie Bess has his reward now for living and loving so selflessly. And perhaps, just perhaps, God will deem me worthy enough one day to see my sweet love again in heaven. I think the key lies in living by Jessie Bess' example - loving those around me without condition. After all, I spent 13 years observing a master of the art, and I am better for that time with Jessie Bess in the end, pain and all. I love you Jessie Bess. Run free and far in God's Garden. Just please don't forget me while you are there. I will never forget you!

Why Mister Marmee And Why a Cat?

Any good writer worth their salt knows the single most important decision that can be made when it comes to weaving a truly worthy tale is the careful selection of the main characters. They are the foundation upon which everything else related to the tale is built. If the characters are weak, the story will crumble, unable to bear the burden of whatever action, drama, or comedic relief the writer attempts to add later on. It is, in my humble opinion, the elementary law of writing physics. If you start with a strong character, everything becomes possible.

You know the quintessential riddle - which came first, the chicken or the egg? The underlying principle behind it is, you must have one to have the other. The real challenge is determining which one of the two was responsible for creating or "hatching" the other. In the case of a story, it is often difficult to determine whether a story inspired a character or a character inspired a story. In the case of Mister Marmee, it was as though he sprang from my mind and heart completely formed into what he is, with neither story nor character creating the other. He was simply complete. I could see and hear him so clearly - his face, his mannerisms, his walk, his gentlemanly sensibilities, his particular accent, the way he gestured when he talked. Every detail was as clear to me as if I had observed him my entire life. I knew his heart and what motivated him. And I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mister Marmee was without question a marmalade colored cat.

Animals are amazing if you give them a moment of your time as a human being. They resonate to us, and if we allow them, they teach us a great deal about nobility, loyalty, trust, and unconditional love. Think about it. They can see and experience first hand the worst humanity has to offer and yet still find the capacity to love again when given half a chance. Look at the ways in which they serve humankind. Without degrees or training, they have the innate ability to heal the brokenness within us. They see into the very centers of our being, penetrate into our very souls, and love us in spite of what they find there.

I know there are those of you who are looking at your favorite cat or dog right now trying to see what I am talking about. You are most likely shaking your head because your precious pet is doing something embarrassing like licking their butt or some other wonderful thing they love to do when company comes over. My Pom loves to dig in her ear with her back paw and then sniff it like she is checking for infection. It makes me laugh every single time but it is not exactly the most glamorous maneuver. But before you poo-poo the idea of your precious pet being amazing in the way I just described, think about this.

When was the last time it felt as though your life was falling apart? Now, ask yourself....where was your beloved pet? Chances are, they were right there in your face, loving you, and letting you know that everything was going to be okay. Oh sure, they probably laid in your lap later on when you were feeling better and licked their butts because all was fine, but they were there for you when things weren't. And how many times have you found yourself saying "It's like <insert pet name here> knew what was happening." I am here to tell you........they did. Animals observe more than we realize.

Besides, what cat or dog doesn't get into everything? It's part of their nature, right? It's just what they do. What a perfect foil for two consulting detectives like Mister Marmee and his famous dachshund detective friend Sir Happy. It absolutely ensures that they will be forever unhindered and underestimated by the people they investigate. After all, who would ever suspect a cat rummaging through the trash? Or a dog sniffing through someone's belongings?

So now you know why Mister Marmee is who he is and why he is a cat. Because in real life, some of the greatest characters we know are the pets we live with each day.

To purchase your eBook copy of "The Chronicles of Mister Marmee ~ The Case of Jack the Nipper" for Kindle readers and Kindle apps through Amazon, http://www.amazon.com/Chronicles-Mister-Marmee-Nipper-ebook/dp/B0088TEIV2/ref=la_B0088YA1KE_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1339344550&sr=1-1.

To purchase your eBook copy of "The Chronicles of Mister Marmee ~ The Case of Jack the Nipper" for most other eBook readers (Apple iPad/iBooks, Nook, Sony Reader, Kobo, and most e-reading apps including Stanza, Aldiko, Adobe Digital Editions, others) through Smashwords.com, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/168569.

Samples are downloadable from both locations. Happy reading!

And Now The Fun Begins...

I find myself tonight with a sense of wakeful excitement with a spinning head, racing heart, and sweating palms...sensations similar to what one must feel when one peers over the edge of a giant precipice. What has inspired such raw, nervous emotion you ask? I am finally within sight of publishing the first in the series of the "Chronicles of Mister Marmee" novels. The cover art is complete; the final edit is almost wrapped up; and the final formatting is the only other thing standing between me and my first published book.

I have spent the last few years toiling (endlessly it seemed at times) to complete my very first novel. In the beginning, I honestly never thought I would make it this far. When I first started on this road, I was pretty certain when I reached 10 pages worth of material that I was very near the conclusion of my whimsical tale. At that time, I wasn't certain what sort of audience this pamphlet would have, but here I am many years later and many, many more pages beyond the pamphlet stage with something considerably more substantial than what I thought possible at its infancy.

It all started with an idea - a vision if you will - of an unconventional character set in one of my favorite time periods. The Victorian Era. I could see this character clearly in my mind's eye as if I was watching a movie about him. I could hear his voice speaking in a very distinctive, cultured British accent. His mannerisms and modes of expressions seemed as familiar to my head and my heart as if they were my own, but I did not know his full story. Not really. Not yet. One thing I knew for certain however from the moment he first stepped into the recesses of my brain; my new character, Mister Tittleewinks Marmalade, or Mister Marmee as he is called by his friends and colleagues, was to become a very close and intimate friend of mine.

Having never written a novel before, I did not know what to expect of myself or of the process itself. I have always been an avid reader so I knew what I wanted to offer to my readers.....what I hoped they would walk away with at the end of my tale. What I didn't want to do was follow someone else's formula on how to write. For me, outlines and diagrams make it harder to write and staunch the creative flow for me. That's not to say I do it better. It's just my way. And no. I don't write a stream of consciousness either. I have my own way of doing things with its own quasi organization, and yes I do break a lot of rules, and I like it. Rules are meant to be broken. That's why it's called creative writing. Jane Austin, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, and Mark Twain made up their own rules. They didn't have a lot of rule books telling them how to do things. They just wrote. If it was good enough for them, I think I can make a few rules up (or at least break a few) as I go along.

Mister Marmee and I have come a long way together. I actually finished the book over a year ago, but I took some really sound advice from someone. I didn't quit my day job. It's not that I don't believe in my writing; it's just I believe that the bill collectors will come after you if you don't pay them immediately so the time to work on the book is not always there. So my labor of love has at times been a "whittle" of love......me whittling away at the many tasks it takes to get a book ready for publication. I almost think at times the getting ready part is harder than the writing part. It certainly takes a lot of discipline and dedication to get it done. Looks like Mister Marmee will finally get to meet the world after all.