Long Live the Queen

Lilly is a seventeen year old Jack Russel. Yes, seventeen. When I brought her to the vet a few weeks ago because she couldn't walk I continued to hear:

"Seventeen, really?"

"Seventeen? This doesn't sound good."

"A seventeen year old Jack Russel? Let's see what we can do."

Naturally, I wasn't too thrilled about hearing those things, but at the same time it reminded me that my dog is pretty awesome.

Before she became a member of our family (first owned by my uncle and then us) she was abused. She was left in the sun without food or water, but her poor treatment didn't result in the formation of a bitter dog.

When she was a puppy she was a ball of energy. Originally, she belonged to my uncle and was living in a house with a yard smaller than the one she has grown old in. She met us at the door to his house barking and wagging her tail, which in turn caused her entire body to shake. Her eyes were bright, shimmering stones in a white and orange face. My father called her "rat dog." She is small, she doesn't look like a tough dog (however, if you go by looks you would be absolutely wrong about her). She would latch onto our pants' legs and let us pull her around the house while we visited with my aunt and uncle. She wasn't malicious; it was a game to her and it was met with laughter from us.

She came to live on our farm when my uncle brought her for a visit one day. It didn't take long for my father to fall in love with her and she enjoyed our yard. We watched her run laps from the front to the back, her tail wagging, a smile spread across her face. Even though she couldn't talk, we knew exactly what she was saying. She was happy. Lilly made the choice to live here.

Her excitable personality drove my mother crazy at first. Her barking whenever my father said, "Come in," or, "Who is it," at first caused a rift in their relationship. However, they quickly bonded over Lilly's ability to keep away snakes.

Lilly joined Max, our severely obese Cocker Spaniel as our furry friends. And then came Heidi, a German Shepard. Lilly was less than half her size, but still dominated the games they would play.

Lilly has outlived both dogs. She has been a mom, a grandmother, and a great grandmother. She has been a best friend and became a member of the family with her first tail wag. She is older than my youngest sister and more reliable than most human friends. She is indestructible. Except, for a few days we thought that maybe she wasn't.

At the age of thirteen she was hit by a car. It was pouring rain, one of the monster thunder storms that plague the east coast in July. It appeared out of nowhere leading to flash flooding. Driving to the vet was a little treacherous, switching attention between the road and Lilly who was wrapped in a towel on the passenger side floor, shaking routinely, looking at me and closing her eyes. It was the first time she bit me, but it wasn't very hard. Moving her from the car to the vet's office jostled her too much. It was her way of saying, "Ow, don't do that."

Even then, the vets were surprised by her age and shape. I waited to hear the worst, "We have to put her down," but I didn't hear those words. For a few days I carried her in a basket. She survived her surgery. To help her regain mobility, I brought her to a river and let her swim while I walked along beside her. The cold water wasn't her friend, but she still ran and she still walked.

Her hip was fine for four years. She played with the other dogs and us. She would even occasionally play fetch. If we walked by she would flop down and roll over for belly rubs. Even though I did my best to make sure her diet was completely grain free she would sneak in to the food for the other dogs. She still hasn't outgrown her stubbornness or her gluttony. Her shiny eyes occasionally look cloudy, like two marbles that have been scratched from sliding across the floor too much. The bright orange that once outlined her face has dulled a little and her eyebrows have turned white. Still, she smiles with the same strong teeth and the same personality.

The day before Lilly suddenly couldn't walk, she was rolling around on the floor. She fell asleep on her back and I laughed, snapping a picture before sending to my father.

The next day, I came home from work to find her laying down with her eyes closed, her body shaking. And for the first time since she had been a puppy, she actually looked small to me. I quickly changed and brought her to the vet. This time, she didn't bite me. There was no jostling (there were a lot of tears).

I sat with her on my lap for a while, she was cold and the metal table she was supposed to lay on looked cold and uninviting. She knew where we were, her shaking stopped and her ears fell back. She didn't want to be at the vet either. The shock about her age was evident when the vet came in, she didn't know I had heard her talking to her intern before she walked into the room.

The original words were reassuring: her mouth and entire front half were super healthy (shocking because of her age which was again, pointed out).

The next batch of information wasn't so thrilling. She would receive shots, which could help or not help. She would take medication for three days, but if there was no change after two days we would have to think about putting her down.

Lilly, who was so healthy other than the collapsed disk in her back. The pup that still looked at everyone with love, who was the leader of the pack, who still had a strong healthy heart and a healthy mouth. The dog that was just playing with us the day before that slept in my room every night. I was shocked to say the least and it took a moment for the words to sink in.

We spoiled her when she came home. She was still eating of course, she's Lilly her appetite is never ending. She drank water. She gave kisses and slept. We took her outside and helped her not fall over.

The next day we repeated the same steps. I hand fed her dry kibble and helped her drink from a cup of water. Lilly couldn't talk, but you could see the appreciation in her eyes that were again a little cloudy. Whenever I carried her in her little basket she would lick my hand. She started sitting up, trying to get out of the basket and move along on her own. We waited for her to go to the bathroom, standing outside and hoping that it would happen. If it did, then we had decided we would get her a wheel chair and help her for as long as she was free of pain. The vet assumed she would lose feeling in her back legs.

Then the day came where she did go to the bathroom. I never thought three adults would cry over a dog going to the bathroom, but we did and Lilly shook with excitement, her tail wagging. She didn't understand what was going on, but she knew we were happy.

Lilly's stubbornness is alive and well. I bought her a wheelchair, but she doesn't use it. She doesn't need it. She walks. She did it on her own, stood on her own. The first time she only walked a few steps and then sat again. Now she walks up and down the hallway, from the living room to the kitchen, and across the yard. She has tried climbing the stairs and even running. Nothing can keep her down. She is a puppy at heart despite the years on her body.

Jack Russells are amazing family dogs. They have big hearts and are loyal and are always hoping to please their owners, their family.

Jack Russel Facts

They were bred for fox hunting: Lilly is alert whenever outside and warns about predators in the area.

Longevity: 13-15 years (Lilly is 17 with a few years ahead of her).

They require at least 40 minutes of exercise a day (and they enjoy running, fetch, and love).

Low grooming maintenance. (They do shed, if you have allergies they're probably not the ideal dog for you).

They enjoy digging, their shaped for hunting rodents and want to rid your home of the nuisances. (Lilly's nickname as "rat dog" was very fitting).