She was not your typical Labrador. She thought fetching was repetitive and pointless, but loved a good game of keep away. Not a confident swimmer but could surprise everyone by quietly making her way across a cold river just to get to the other side. (Now what?!) There she would sit watching us intently for hours as we fly fished. Safety patrol. She made sure we were ok.
She sniffed every shrub and blade of grass relentlessly. So much pee mail to read! Snored so loudly and hogged the bed. She could stare through you with the force of ten thousand laser beams when it was exactly 15 minutes before meal time. Watch your limbs as she voraciously ate anything and everything put in front of her, in mere seconds like a great white shark.
She was a world class snuggle bug and gold medal napper. She curled up so tight tucking her nose under her tail, we called her “circle puppy” . She was gentle, quiet and dainty with her tiny paws and petite size (“fun size!”). Very lady like! Very demure! She never barked – only a handful of times at a fox roaming the neighborhood or a totally innocent although somehow suspicious looking person in the shadows. She never jumped up on anyone. Never chewed anything other than a dog toy. Never entered a room or jumped on any furniture unless invited. “Have a little decorum people! Decorum!”, she seemed to say to unruly dogs who visited.
She mastered the art of sunbathing, laying on our patio for hours in the summer heat. She would get up and stagger toward the pool, dehydrated, delirious and panting, swim a “grandma circle” close to the steps and then return to her lounge chair undeterred by us calling her to come inside to cool off. She loved the sun.
It was her non-dog, cat-like nature that made her the perfect dog sitting experience for friends and neighbors who were considering a dog of their own. I’d drop her off with a bag full of stuffed animals and 10 page manual explaining her various needs and quirks. Invariably she settled right in and they fell in love with her as she calmly and quietly curled up with their kids to read a book and helped clean crumbs from under their tables. Of course after experiencing Jops exemplary behavior, they got dogs of their own.
She was a true boss lady and drama queen, it was all about her when we were on a walk. Want to turn right? Too bad. She’d put on the brakes to sniff something exactly 10 feet out of reach in the other direction. A long standoff would ensue, sometimes in the middle of a busy intersection.
She was shy and hid behind my legs at the dog park. She was discriminating, knew exactly which doggies she liked and didn’t like (the smaller and fluffier the better) but of course loved all people, especially anyone who would make eye contact because they might have treats in their pockets or be good for an impromptu belly rub.
She was a good mommy to all her little stuffed animal babies. Except that time she gutted Mr Chicken and when she left Stinky the Skunk outside all winter and he was encased in ice for months until the spring thaw.
Although not a strong swimmer she taught Ike how to swim, making her little grandma circles by the steps in our pool and then with an air of superiority, retired to a lounge chair to watch him flail around. “This is how we do it Ike… what an idiot ”. More importantly she taught him to always bring a “thank you” toy after meal time. And only bring a favorite toy! Choose wisely! Gratitude matters.
She gave serious side eye for Ike’s shenanigans, or when we were bothering her during a nap with our recitation of knick names: Jops, Joppies, Jopper Popper, Jobster Lobster, Jop Stickies, Jopalina, Miss J, Lady Joppledown, Little Lady, Princess, Baby Girl.
If you’re still reading this, I can’t believe you’re still reading this. (“She’s just a dog.”) OK, I’ll get to the point…
She loved us so hard and loyally through years of busy schedules, road trips, hours and hours when we were focused on work, hockey and other things. She waited patiently and quietly for her turn and then smiled and wagged and rolled and played and loved us until it was time to take a break and focus on other things again. So much waiting. She absorbed millions of our hugs, gallons of tears and joined us on every emotional up and down for the past 12 years. She was always there.
She was supposed to be a seeing eye dog but that line of work didn’t suit her. We were on a waitlist for five years and she came at the perfect time, exactly when we needed her most. It was divine intervention. Her purpose was to love and comfort us. And this she did with perfection. Her work is done now and she can rest. On the other side of the rainbow bridge, she is laying in the sun, baking her brains, one eye open watching for rabbits she dreams of catching, and butterflies are landing on her nose.