Note from MSR (the Rescue): I received an email from Andrea Ellis who had adopted Jesse from our rescue some 13 years ago. She and her family felt it was time to bring in a second Schnauzer. During a lengthy conversation on Jesse's present conditions, what all was going on with their family and what might make the best fit, I realized that we had a dog in rescue that would fit the bill perfectly. Romeo, a 5-year old male, who truly lives up to his name, was ready to go to his 'furever' home. After a meet and greet at the foster home, Romeo did a home visit and met Jesse. That was all it took.

Submitted by Andrea Ellis

I have always loved dogs. Recent preventive heath studies tell us that a pet wards off depression, high blood pressure and all manner of health problems. I was never allowed to have a dog as a child...we were a confirmed "cat" family...but after I married another dog lover. I have always enjoyed one as part of our household.

Our current dog roommate is an aging miniature schnauzer, Jesse James. We did not name him, but I now believe the name a perfect fit. All Schnauzers have a touch of wild independence, taking them where the nose leads and our dog is no exception. Once in while, when outdoors, Jesse will lift his nose to the sky, smelling as if door of dog heaven had just opened and drafted his way, and all encoded memory from obedience school, simply is blown away in the breeze. In past years, this event has spurred me to chase him down Leahy Road in traffic or walk the streets in the cold winter night, calling his name with two teary children in tow.

Lately, now that Jesse has reached the phenomenal age of 15 human years, (over 105 in dog years), smell is about the only solid sensory tool he has in his arsenal. Completely deaf and nearly blind from cataracts, we live with a disabled friend. Paul and I find ourselves hand motioning him to go outside and return, pointing out his food and trying to touch him when we say hello...doggy sign language abounds and makes us laugh at each other as we try to communicate. Knowing that he is in a silent world is a little sad for us, realizing that he used to recognize all of our voices and be "doggy on patrol" when our small children played in the yard or wrestled in the living room.

Yes, that is part of the affection (and tolerance) we have for an ancient canine...we have witnessed a lot of history together. We remember the hope filled tone of our Dave's 6-year old voice when we brought this bruised puppy to our house..."Is that our dog, Daddy?" "Yes, Dave...that's OUR dog." Jesse's early years found him a cherished companion, trading off nights to sleep in both children's rooms and a comfort dog when it seemed Mom was making a sick bed on the big couch in the family room. This meant 6 or more hours of coveted couch time with a warm child and endless conversation with a small person who in all ways, considered him a household member with full voting privileges. Jesse's imaginary status allowed him to hold opinions on politics, vacation choices and Rachel and Dave's friends. "Jesse" was disappointed in Bill Clinton, "preferred" the beach for walking and "could tell" when someone was lying...what a dog....

No longer able to climb the stairs or go on power walks...Jesse's world becomes smaller and smaller. His once alert mind has long naps and needs direction from standing, staring or looking directly at the floor.(the source of all dog treats...they must rise up out of the hardwood in his geriatric world). Once in a while, in step with the elder community, he comes out of his old man shell and gets a bit frisky...wanting to chase a toy or pull on a rope. We meet this with a delighted memory of his youth and join him in playing...like we used to...both parties happy that we shared another moment in the sun. Jesse limps to his bed, short of breath, but happy for one more frolic and Paul and I think over the time that has passed...knowing that the years romp along for us, as well. One day, we will be the ones needing a little more focus...a little more care...the ones with a store of "dog days"...and the bodies to prove it. Perhaps this is the other explanation for our affection and attention...a silent wish that the world will offer warmth and companionship in old age and that we will still have an offering for others.

Our dog's accelerated march to old age beckons us to remember...and to return the favor of his companionship... he isn't, after all, just an "old dog."