It is amazing what a few white hairs can do. Yesterday I grabbed a sweater from the top of my closest. I hadn't worn it for sometime; it is one of those sweaters that I never really loved. But it is long and was perfect for my chilly morning outing. I held it up in front of the patio door so that I could see it well and sure enough there were a few lingering white hairs left on it, Jessie hairs. Being that it is black I always thought twice before putting it on. If I had to pick Jessie up for anything while wearing it; I was left with at least a half hour of picking out white hairs so it was one of those least worn. I mostly opted for my white sweatshirt or fleece. I hate concerning myself with minute details like that so white just worked better.
But those few hairs left in my sweater are now sweet reminders of my little girl. My thoughts went to the little shedding fireball that once ruled this house with a steel determination. A few forgotten hairs brought back many memories; I thought about her for the entire day. Leaving to go for our walk to the beach I stepped across the front carpet where Jessie loved to dive off of the steps and roll around leaving a strip of tiny hairs in her path. She didn't shed a bit, she shed a whole lot and oddly enough I miss those little white hairs. Not having them around is another reminder that she is no longer with us but all it took was just a few to bring back a flood of memories.
I remember walking the three dogs; Jessie, Tilley and Luke. Jessie loved to walk under the poodles; it was what made walking a bit of a challenge. Of course she was not content to walk under them once, she had to go between their legs, around and back through entangled them in hog tied fashion. Later on in her life it became necessary to walk the girls separate from Luke. After Tilley's bout with Vestibular she was slowed down to an old snails pace so the two old gals walked and then Luke and I walked at super speed.
Jessie was a funny little thing. She was sweet and tender to humans; but quite the little bitch to other dogs. Both Tilley and Luke were accustom to having their face snapped at if they forgot their manners and the rule that any food landing on the floor was the little white one's food. To this day Luke just stares at food that lands on the ground. Of course Elsa grabs it having arrived in the family after Jessie was well into her Dementia year. I wish that Elsa could have known Jessie better, I'm sure that they would have gotten along amazing. Everyone seems to like Elsa, even the grouchy dogs.
So I pulled on my sweater that held those few white hairs and set out to run early morning errands. I smiled knowing that they were there. My day was spent as any other; very busy, but my thoughts kept returning to those little hairs and the memories of my little Jack Russell Terror. Although I had things to do, my heart and head spent much of the day alone with my little Jessie, now gone. Memories are wonderful things.