Jessie's welcome home is always infectious

This column appears in today's regional IN&M newspapers

By Michael Commane
The first thing I do when I arrive home is to say hello to Jessie. When I opened the door on Thursday of the big freeze I was horrified to see that she was limping and could not put her left foot on the ground.

She has been getting arthritic for the last 12 months or so and the cold spell hit her hard and affected her in such a way that she was not able to put her foot on the ground. Nevertheless, the moment she saw me her face lit up and she seemed to forget about her pain.

She has been finding it more and more difficult to walk. She is beginning to show her age. In October she was 13. Okay, you know now that Jessie is my labrador dog. And that night I arrived home, along with her face ‘lighting up’ she was frantically wagging her tale

It was the sort of night that you would not ‘put a dog out’ so I had no choice but to allow her stay indoors. And just as I had my back turned she was on the couch, cuddled up and heading for sleep. How could I ever try to get her off that couch?

Jessie arrived at my door 12 years ago. A young couple with small children decided she was probably too big and knew that I was looking for a dog. So in she came.

In the early years she got me into much trouble. In those days she was so gentle and placid but whenever she saw a cat, a hen, a rabbit or any small animal she was out of control. She sort of became notorious in the village. She killed a few hens, a pet rabbit and a guinea pig. At one stage it was so serious that the local sergeant gave me a warning. Naturally in every case I apologised to the victims, well not quite the victims – their owners. The victims were dead.

One or two people were cross with me and understandably so, but most saw the funny side to it and were gracious in their loss.

On one occasion when I was walking in unknown territory and she was off the lead she was suddenly gone and then I heard this terrible cry. She ran out of a yard with a hen in her mouth. What could I do? I eventually got the hen from her and before I could catch her she was back into the yard and another hen was gone. I tracked down owner Jamie Wrenn, who was amazingly understanding about it. I subsequently left a few bob in a local hostelry for him. It became known as ‘Commane’s blood money’.

The following summer I did reparation for the hen incident and went on the annual Jamie Wrenn walk from Castlegregory in West Kerry to Tralee. Proceeds went to the oncology unit at Kerry General Hospital. I did the walk twice and on both occasions Jessie accompanied me.

The late Jamie Wrenn, who had been diagnosed with cancer, did sterling work in collecting funds for the oncology unit at Kerry General Hospital.

I have to admit people have been very forgiving re her misdemeanours. I am even lucky enough that anytime I am away she is walked and dined.

The two of us have walked all over Ireland and we are still swimming in the Atlantic together but the days of long walks are over. And that’s terribly sad. She just does not have the energy or the inclination any longer and the idea of her assailing a rabbit or hen is now just a memory.

These days as I have no option but to think of her eventual demise I am amazed at how close a relationship one can have with a dog. It has also struck me how ‘wise’ and ‘knowledgeable’ a dog is. Okay we are told they cannot reason but I have a hunch my dog probably knows me better than I know myself. She plays all sorts of tricks on me. She knows exactly what psychological strings to pull so that I will pamper and spoil her. And is she loyal.

Her licence was due for the last month or so and last week I paid my €12.70 fee. Went to pay by cheque in a post office to be told cheques not accepted – either cash or an AIB laser card. Sort of bizarre. Right now my hope is that Jessie will get the full year out of her licence. Alas I’m not too sure.

In philosophy class we were told all animate beings have souls. Although French philosopher Descartes saw animals as machines and did not have souls. I have enough trouble coping with my own reality, existence and ‘mortal coil’ to ask any sort of deep questions about what happens dogs when they die.

Then in theology class we were told that what marks out the uniqueness of the human soul is its immortality. But I cannot help thinking that animals are far wiser and more knowledgeable than we could ever imagine. Jessie certainly is.