The Java-dog

In the fall of 1997, while a second year graduate student at the U of MN, I was living and working as a Hall Director on the campus of Augsburg College in Minneapolis.  The Residence Life department enacted a policy allowing hall directors to have pets in their on-campus apartments, and within 24 hours I was on my way to the humane society in Golden Valley.  When I got to the humane society, there was a small, lonely puppy - the last of six in an abandoned litter - just waiting to come home with me.  And so began a 14 year relationship between girl and dog.

Java was named because of her color.  I had just finished reading the book Coffee Will Make You Black when I met Java, and her deep black color plus the tiny splash of milky-white on her chest and chin made her look like a cup of coffee to me.  From the minute I brought Java home, she was not interested in letting me out of her sight.  Most of the time, she came with me to the office (right next door to my apartment) and entertained any number of Augsburg students. But when I had to go to class and leave her alone, Java was rotten. She was a chewer - and chewed up most of my life that first year (hairbrushes, shoes, my CD collection, the cushions on my sofa, a fleece jacket, the bottle of bitter apple spray I bought to make her stop chewing things...).

In the next few years, Java and I moved several times - but always together.  And when Greg and I got together, Java not only gained a new person in her life, she gained a best friend in Greg's dog, Madison. Our little blended family had a pretty idyllic life - daily walks to the park, lots of ball retrieving, and plenty of doggy chase games around the big tree down the street.

And then came the move to MN, the addition of children to our lives, and the settling in to life as a family dog.  For the last 8 1/2 years, Java has done her best to keep us all together (herding instinct) and to be right in the middle of it all. 

This last chapter of her life has been yet another change.  When we left the midwest to begin our Costa Rican adventure, we left Java in the loving care of Don and Marilee Muth (Greg's parents).  And boy, has she been loved.  She has probably had more treats and walks in the past five months than in all the years since the children were born.  But sometimes love and treats are not enough; old age and a raging case of leukemia have brought Java to the end of her life.

So last night we gathered round our computer screen to say a tearful good-bye via skype, to tell her that we love her even from far away, and to thank her for 14 years of unconditional love.  Rest in peace, sweet Java-dog. Rest in peace.