Jett๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ’•

By Rosalie Tirella

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Jett๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ‘‘

Da KING๐Ÿ‘‘โœจโญ! My JETT๐Ÿ‘‘! I was at the Worcester Animal Rescue League yesterday. The staffer we’ve known for almost two decades walked up to my old boy๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ’•, sitting with Lilac in the back seat of my car, his tail AND butt wagging at the sight of his beloved Rushelle and she said to Jett, more than to me: THIS IS THE PERFECT DOG.

Jett. Perfect.

I said, Yes!

Perfect, she said again.

And I nodded in proud appreciation.

Rushelle said: I just went into our files. I was the one who did the adoption. I did Jett’s adoption 15 years ago. (I adopted Jett from WARL) Then we both smiled at each other, masks on, but the corners of our eyes crinkling up in happiness. And it all felt so beautifully wistful, the way life should unfold: in love, in respect. In seeing beauty in an old Husky mix with a fatty bump on his side, deafness in both ears, dementia closing in. Yes, Jett was perfect.

Jett was mine because of WARL/Rushelle. He’s been loved by me – and the WARL staffers – for 15 years. We’ve made the journey together, our long and winding road of caring ๐Ÿ’•

I said to Rushelle, tears behind my big sunglasses: What am I gonna do when I lose Jett? He’s my favorite dog!
Then: I’M DOING THIS ALL FOR JETT! I admitted this crazy fact aloud for the first time in a year: on the road for weeks and weeks!!, in motels!!, hotels!!, in friends of friends digs, loping through dog parks at dawn, digging under farms fences at dusk. JETT – AND LILAC – AND ME … MAKING MEMORIES. Family.๐Ÿ’•

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Jett at the dog park at dawn.