#pet death for tw

[loquaciousquark]

My dog is getting old. This has happened to everyone in the history of the world who has ever loved a dog.

It's my turn, horologically speaking, to watch age catch up to him. I keep trying on the grief to see how it fits. Today I'm more sanguine; today I'm remembering the good days and the good years. The lump in the throat still hurts.

It's hard for him to stand up now on the bad days. Especially in the evenings, especially when a few hours ago he'd flung himself wall to wall with joy when I got home from work; and especially first thing in the morning when he wakes stiff as a board in the hips. On the good days he can still take the four stairs up to the living room in one light-speed jump when he's on a tear, though he trusts the kitchen linoleum much less than he used to. Today's a bad day. Yesterday was worse.

There's a faint discolored patch on my quilt where he sleeps. Right side, foot. It took half a decade to show up, and every few months I give it an extra soak in a bleach-filled bathtub. It still never really goes away; besides, he puts it right back on. Not tonight, though. Tonight he sleeps in the front room, because the stairs up to me are too hard. He watched me go up tonight without him and his tail drooped so low it touched the floor. He's only been mine eight of his eleven years, but I was there when he came home the first time, when he was exactly eight weeks old. I held him up in one hand like a waiter's tray and it was easy. He's ninety pounds now and I can't help him much at all.

German Shepherds are prone to hip dysplasia. Half-breed, half-hipped, I'd hoped, but on the bad nights he struggles to get up on those back legs like he's heaving ballast off a sinking ship. The husky part of him just seems to make him shed and yell, especially when I'm late getting home. I'd hoped for a little more time from the mix, maybe. But maybe not.

He's finally gotten used to fireworks. Thunder's mostly all right now, unless it's very bad. The washing machine is a new terror; sometimes I forget until it goes into the spin cycle and he lifts my legs off the ground trying to crawl under me. He eats books when he's anxious, when I've committed the temerarious crime of coming home and leaving again in the same day. Cold Mountain is nothing more than shredded cardboard and a few strung-together chapters, a sacrificial lamb to preserve Catherine, Called Birdy and Holes. The Private Patient died years ago.

He didn't want to come indoors tonight. The dryer was going, almost as bad as the washing machine, and there were stairs between him and bed. He let me coax him in at last, because I can't lift him and can't push him, and he made it clear that when he stiff-leg trotted inside he did so because he loved me, not because he wanted to. I sat with him while he found an acceptable patch of rug in the front room; I cooed and petted him and gave him a treat he didn't earn. He still whined when I left and looked like he wanted to get up, but didn't think he could make it.

He's getting old; it's his turn. His muzzle is turning white and his eyes have gone cloudy with cataracts. 2+ nuclear sclerosis, maybe -- probably all a little blurry, that's all. No PSCs, no cortical spoking; central vision's honestly probably fine. The vet keeps saying dogs adapt well. He can certainly see the stray cat who keeps lurking on my front porch. I'd like them to be friends, but a week ago he got out and chased her off like a bullet from a gun. His hips were good that day, and adrenaline covers a multitude of sins.

I have a picture of the first time we took him to get a Christmas tree. He's sitting and looking up and his head isn't even high to my knee. I remember watching him tear around the dog park lap after lap after lap, the single mixed greyhound out of fifteen or twenty dogs the only one who could keep up with him. I have pictures of him at the end of nearly every lecture I give; lately I've been tripping over them like rocks, stony little griefs worked loose from a streambed when the water moves too fast.

I'm thirty-five years old. I keep thinking that every dog who was alive on the planet when I was born is dead. Most are long dead. My dog has meds to help, which is comforting. I have a vet who will help me put him to sleep in my home, his home, when the time comes. Two to four years, she guesses, maybe, if he doesn't get cancer. When I watch him struggle to stand up I wonder if that's not too long for kindness.

It's a very human thing to miss someone before they die. Dogs don't do that. They live in an endless now, like a kid in a yellow summer. Now, I love you. Now, it hurts -- now it stops. Now, I love you.

I want that for us for what's left, for whatever one two three four years we have. When it happens, I want him to die in no pain, looking at me holding him where all his toys are, his favorite rope, his purple pig, his leash, his tennis balls. I want him thinking nothing but Now, I'm tired; now, I'm happy.

The empty place at the foot of the bed hurts tonight. The grief stings and bites, worse because I know I'm borrowing it ahead of time, because he's asleep fifteen feet below me, warm and full, even if tonight's a bad night and the stairs are too hard. I have to sit in it, though, just for a few minutes. Try it on for size. It's his turn, I keep thinking, and mine. Everyone who has ever loved a dog has done this before me. Now, I love you. Now, I miss you. Now, it hurts.

[floweroflaurelin]

Rest in peace, Jellie. I’m glad she’ll live on in every minecraft world ❤️

2006-2024

[nezhanetwork]

it's only a matter of time... ♥

[martuzzio]

Legends never die, and as such, Jellie will continue to live on in Minecraft and within our hearts until the end of time. It was a pleasure to draw you, Jellie. Have fun playing in the stars.

[katiky-png]

[cattimeswithjellie]

Rest in peace Jellie, sweetest and grumpiest of cats, namer of this blog, and a little bit of joy in all our lives. Seventeen years is a long life for a cat, but no span of years is ever long enough for a friend. I know the hearts of everybody in the fandom is with Scar and his family today, and we will remember her in every Minecraft world where she lives on.

[spiderziege]

her world

[pintsofguinnesmakeyoustrong]

pet cemetery in yorkshire. it was the biggest stone in the lot 🐁

[todayontumblr]

Friday, January 5.

Farewell little friend. (tw: pet death)

This is a tough one, y'all. We are deeply saddened at the news that Jellie, the most beloved and beautiful cat of @GoodTimesWithScar, has passed away, aged 17-and-a-half years. But we are also gladdened to see the community band together in support of Scar—and pay poignant tribute to this sweetest little pal. 

Hugs to Scar, and to all y'all, too.

@crunchesloudly

[memingursa]

Human pet guy has thoughts on this with…. examples.

[william-arts]

You will never be forgotten Jellie

[limitedlifemap]

The Limited Life MAP is OUT NOW!! go give it a watch and thank you to all of our participants and supporters, we couldn't have done this without you o7

(We did not anticipate the release of this project to be at such an unfortunate time, and take this chance to send our regards to Scar and his family as well. May Jellie rest well <3)

[jey-draws]

In memory

[sumitiper]

I want to give my biggest and deepest condolences to GoodTimesWithScar and his family on the passing of his beloved cat Jellie.

As much as I have only been watching his content for a little over 2 years now I was immediately aware of his love for that cat. That cat that got added into the game that means so much to him and so much to us, all of his viewers. Jellie was an extraordinary cat that has been with Scar for a long time, through highs and lows. It is frankly hard to think of Scar as a person without remembering his immense love of his cat.

It is incredibly unfair that our pets cannot live as long as us. May you rest in peace Jellie, we shall all miss you very much.

[ozzybutweirdthistime]

my heart goes out to scar after jellie’s passing today. she always brought me such incredible joy whenever she was featured in a video, stream, or even just in a random photo floating around the internet, and i know that she did the same for so many others as well.

it makes me so glad that she was added as a cat in minecraft, because this means her legacy will be immortalized in a way that is not only important to this community, but also to scar himself.

scar, wherever you are, i hope you’re doing okay, and just know that you and jellie have brought so much happiness to people that really need it.

rest in peace jellie, we love you.

[foggysilverfeathers]

I can’t express how much Jellie meant to the community, simply because we saw how much she meant to Scar. From the way he would try to find her every time in Minecraft, to the way that we as a community voted to get her into Minecraft in the first place, there are moments everywhere that remind me of the special place in our hearts.

May your memory live on forever.