Juju as my Teacher

Juju comes home

I never had a dog growing up. It was the year 2010 and I found Juju on the internet before there was social media. There was Facebook, but it was still only a little bit different than MySpace. I was in no rush and spent months looking for a Boston Terrier with a white patch on the face. When I found her, I had to travel with a friend to the east side of Fresno in the literal boondocks. No proper roads or signage, and I wasn't sure if I would get a dog that day and if my $350 deposit sent via Paypal would be honored, but I took the chance and finding her would change my life for the better. I had another $350 cash to complete the transaction to purchase my first dog ever. I was 26 years old. Juju was 11 weeks, and she appeared at the doorstep with an older woman carrying her. She was so tiny. Looking back now, I realize how lucky I was to —find a female puppy with a white patch that was in California, and that she ended up being as healthy as she turned out to be in her lifetime. She was a Singleton runt puppy. She came home with me and she barely whimpered leaving behind everything she knew at 11 weeks. She cuddled with me and she was 2 lbs, barely the size of two handfuls.

Dog mom life

I had my one and only abortion in July 2010. It was my choice while I was married to the wrong man, and it was a choice that would free me from a life of misery. Everyday I am thankful for my peace and freedom. The abortion was a difficult decision, because of pregnancy hormones, but afterwards I decided I would find out if I was really cut out to be a mother and decided to go on a mission to find Juju as my dog. I didn't quite know it yet, but Juju would be the furry animal version of a human toddler I had not yet decided I would never want to have. As my dog child, she would learn boundaries and tricks, be potty trained within 3 months, and have (nearly) her entire lifetime of being cute and goofy forever, providing me with uncomplicated, unconditional love, enthusiasm, and joy.

I was once her teacher

It was wild to experience puppyhood with a Boston Terrier. They have never ending energy. Juju didn't really "calm down" until she was 8 years old. By calm down I mean she would finally just chill on a couch, and not wake up at 5am every morning wanting to play. Honestly, the puppy stage was such a slap in the face. The first two years was a lot of training and discipline, making sure she was learning how to listen. I thoroughly enjoyed her milestones of learning her name, learning to enjoy walks, learning how to walk upstairs, and figuring out her weird quirks with food and playtime. Her best listening years started at 4 years old. She understood the assignments. She would walk in rhythm with me, we would eventually go off leash trail running together for 5.3 miles at Redwood Regional 2-3x a week during Covid. Juju became my companion that witnessed all that weird in me and she accepted me completely with no judgement, except for when she thought she deserved more treats or when another dog visited the house 20 minutes past their welcome.

Then she became my teacher.

After the puppy phase, she taught me communication is not solely dependent on making grammatical sentences in a language. Dogs have a keen sense and ability to understand you based on your hormone smells, tone of voice, facial expressions and body language. Juju had a special empathic ability to know when humans were in distress. I often say she was raised in a dysfunctional pack, since I had a tumultuous and emotionally unhealthy marriage, she began to understand the ups and downs. When my uncle died, shorty after, my sister came over to talk about it and she started crying, which when Juju noticed, she immediately stopped playing with my sister's dog and went and sat on my sister's lap to comfort her. She just knew what to do.

Teaching her tricks made my mom realize that dogs are more than just furry cute pets/animals that need to eat. They have eagerness, they have jealousy, insecurity, fear and happiness.

She taught me that routine, structure, and discipline are healthy. We had a schedule and life routine that included meal times, walks, playtime, cuddle naps, and sleep.

She taught me what aging looks like. Aging into old age is both a blessing and a curse in this earth realm. And that aging naturally requires so much patience, care and radical acceptance.

She taught me how to die. She was so tapped in, Juju knew when it was her time and died within 48 hours after refusing food and water.

She taught me that once humans bond with a dog you get to experience unimaginable love for a dog. Dogs can help heal you with unconditional comfort and joy. And that dogs can sometimes provide the safety and comfort you need when humans cannot.

She taught me how to heal after her death how to care for myself while healing from the grief of losing her physical body. I gave myself gout a week after her death because I didn't leave the house while I was processing my grief. I ate canned fish and improper amounts of fiber and sleep, I just ate whatever was in the fridge or on the shelf. When I realized I gave myself gout (which lasted 3 days of big toe pain and lingered for 7 days in total) from depression and poor self-preservation, it was my body's wake up call. It was time to get out of bed and care about myself. I miss her so much still, but overtime and giving myself the emotional space to process the grief, I am able to see how lucky I am to have experienced her death. Her energy and spirit is still felt in my memory.

Her death was sacred.

A week before she passed an ancestor sent me a white lined sphinx into my tattoo studio. It showed up on Ancestor day, the first day of Ching Ming. It was so big, my clients that day were afraid to get too close to it in observation. It chilled in the space the entire day of tattooing, from noon-9pm, totally unbothered. I felt like it was hanging out, chilling, maybe listening. I don't have a screen on the window it came through so I left it wide open overnight so it would be free to leave. That Saturday night to Sunday, it took off, because when I arrived on Sunday it was gone. I believe it was sent by my dad as a foreshadow to Juju's imminent death.

Exactly a week later, Juju would cross the (literal) rainbows during that same time. She was welcomed by an extremely rare bay area thunderstorm portal opening during her alchemization. She breathed heavily but without struggle. I played the flute all day Saturday while there were never-been-seen lightning cracks and rumbling thunders. The storm calmed down late into Saturday night. When she died at around 4am Sunday, it was silent, but moments later a sheet of rain paid a visit to the house. It started as a few tip taps of drizzle from my east facing window, which would get louder and louder with the Doppler effect as it was passing through. It felt like it was cleansing the house, and it took her spirit to the rainbows that would show up a few hours later in the west side of the bay area. Full, bright, rainbows and double rainbows that have never been seen in the bay area ever before. A rare sight, but beautifully captured by several photographers. I like to think of her sacred death and the phenomenon as my family, welcoming her to the ether. My dad, uncle, and grandma, all passed, had strong ties to that SF bay bridge, and its connection to the El Cerrito house Juju grew up in. I know she's in good company now.

Finding Juju was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me. Not only did she fill the void in question of whether I would be cut out to be a mom, I found the answer. I am quite happy and forever grateful for having experienced being her dog mom. Juju lived a full and happy life. It was an honor to love her, and to witness her life as her teacher, best friend, and caretaker.

And through Juju, I learned that she, as a dog child, was exactly who I needed to experience to discover parts of myself and to know myself better. Once a dog mom, a short and sweet chapter of my life, and still decidedly child-free by choice.

Now I can see how our roles have reversed, Juju as my teacher.