Our Little Jon died Monday, Labor Day after 14 years of taking care of and protecting (or so he thought) our family. He had heart problems. When I got up Monday morning I knew something was wrong by his actions (you know they have their routines they follow everyday) and it took him until 6:20 Monday night before he died. He was in his little bed and I was sitting in the recliner beside him crocheting just waiting and watching. It was heart wrenching.
Z was at school. K was home but left and got back to Fayetteville before he died. It was so sweet because she told him bye. Fortunatelly, D had come over that day to grill for K and so he was there and stayed until he died. We buried him out in the field of our property.
It is quite amazing how we get so attached to these little creatures. I walk into my big ol lonely house everyday and there is no Little Jon to greet me, no one for me to take out and no one to feed. I didn't realize how nice it was just to know I could look over and see him laying there.
He was a strange little bird. He would never wear a collar in his life. He would just lay down on the floor and not move! He hated going anywhere, can you imagine being at home 24/7 and not minding? That was him, of course, that was probably part our fault because he was usually going to the vet if he was in the car.
Other people - he has bit he share of people over the years. Some brave soul will decide they are going to try to pick him up or touch him from behind or approach him while he is in his bed and before you know it, they have been bit. I try to warn everyone that he is contankerous but no one believes me until they have tried for themselves. This excludes the family of course, he would let us do anything. If someone came to the house he would bark and act like he was going to eat them alive and five minutes later he would be rolling his ball to them, wanting them to play. He liked for us to throw the ball, he went and got it and then rolled it back to you with his nose. Sometimes though when we go to get the ball, he grabs it away. Other times he would take his ball and wrap it up in his blanket and bite at it and play. I would always wonder what was going on in his little mind while doing this.
I've always said he had "little man syndrome". He thought he was so tough until retaliation came and then he ducked his tail and headed home.
For those of you that aren't animal people, I know you think this is crazy. For those of you who are, you know why I'm posting this. Its good therapy!
I miss you Little Jon...you were truly a part of the family!