Candace came in this morning, tears rolling, to tell me that Jupiter was having a seizure. I immediately sent her out to bring the happy little papillion mix in...just as quickly as I gently wrapped the little old girl in my arms, I sent her back out to get shoes and car keys as I called Dr. Julia's office.
We bundled the barely conscious 12 year old girl in a blanket and Candace set off the 5 miles it is to the vet's office. Cindy, Dr. Julia's number one, was alerted and waiting. Jupiter snuggled against her hu-mom's chest.
They rushed in, Candace verbally filled in a few vital details and Cindy rushed Jupiter to the back. But it was too late to stop the cluster of strokes. Jupiter gave a final gasp and started her journey across the Bridge.
Just yesterday, she was trotting through the dog door like always, as if everything in the world belonged to her. As she routinely does, she came to visit and spent the afternoon under my desk sleeping against my foot and complaining if I moved. That she is gone hardly seems real. Candace, Skye and Daisy are in shock.
The four months Jupiter was part of our extended Army were significant in so many ways. She was Candace's symbol of a new beginning...adopted from the shelter partially blind; Candace had to argue to adopt the girl the shelter felt too old and feeble to adopt but in the end Candace...and Jupiter...celebrated days of joy at second chances and found love. This confident little girl strolled in and immediately fit into Candace's family as though fate had decreed it. She was small in stature but huge in character and heart. She had the composure and calm Candace needed to draw strength from as she, too, started life anew.
Tonight there are tears and lots of extra hugs. Once again we are reminded of the fragility of all we hold close.
Safe travels, Sweet Girl, we watch for the glow of your star.
