Jernee’s toys. The only thing that is not going to AARFis the stuffed monkey. It will be buried with Jernee Timid. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
gathered the grand clan for donation, only a few didn’t make the cut–wear and tear met them where they stood.
other pets will have a chance to tackle a toy now that Jernee will no longer need them.
blankets, beds, a few items of clothing, and her crate are in the mix, too.
our home is the only lived-in space that will forever hold her scent, and I can’t give that away.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Part III: There is no routine anymore; we just wing it
Part II of the previous video: Jernee and post-breakfast-time|the treat.
I called Jernee’s Vet yesterday, Monday, September 08, 2025, and made sure the Intake Receptionist changed our upcoming appointment to reflect an End-of-Life visit and not to simply discuss it.
Since my last post, several other things have taken place, including Jernee developing a head tic and now walking robotically and in calculated steps. I wish I could describe it much better, but this is how I see it come to life in my mind when I think of how to describe it to others.
She also snapped at one of our neighbors and almost bit her this past Saturday, September 06, 2025, and then did the same thing to me on Sunday, September 07, 2025. Let me be clear… Jernee has NEVER done this. She loves our neighbors and is such a welcoming presence to anyone she meets.
I can only imagine what my baby girl is going through, how her world must look and feel incredibly foreign to her. I was assured by the Intake Receptionist that everything I told her about Jernee warrants euthanasia. She is only going to get worse.
Below are the documentation notes I emailed to our vet, and I also shared two of the six videos I recorded of her. The Vet who is going to perform the service will review the information and prepare herself accordingly:
Saturday, August 23, 2025, at 10:15 AM, Jernee urinated in her bed while staring off in a dazed and confused state. I had just given her a bath and placed her in her bed because she couldn’t get there on her own.
Monday, August 25, 2025, at 5:17 PM, Jernee fell while standing up while waiting for me to open our door.
Thursday, August 28, 2025 at 05:52 AM, Jernee ran full speed into our coat closet door right across from our bedroom entrance while I was tidying up her crate’s bedding.
Same Day: At 7:24 PM, Jernee urinated on the concrete path directly in front of our building’s door. She has never done that.
Saturday, August 30,2025 (time, unknown): Jernee urinated on the living room rug while I was away at work. This is not something she does normally.
Same Day, 5:55 PM: Jernee ran head on, full speed into the wall of the elevator.
Sunday, August 31, 2025, at 3:55 PM: Jernee pooped in the middle of the street.
Monday, September 01, 2025 at 09:22 AM: Jernee urinated in the street/pathway to our grassy areas of our apartment community.
Same Day at 6:06 PM: Jernee pooped on the sidewalk. She has almost no control over her bowels anymore.
Thursday, September 04, 2025 (time unknown): Jernee urinated in the middle of our living room floor. We have hardwood floors, and there are always 2 pee pee pads down for her in front of our fireplace.
Saturday, September 06, 2025, at 3:50 PM: Jernee snapped at one of our neighbors while she was gently petting her. She loves our neighbors, and was typically very open to being petted by them.
Sunday, September 07, 2025, at 07:57 AM: While outside, Jernee stared off into the distance and barked twice. Nothing was there.
Same day, at 7:40 PM: While on the elevator in our building, I attempted to stroke Jernee’s head, and she snapped at me, and tried to bite me.
I have the box that Jernee will be buried in, and I will wrap it in all brown wrapping paper. I’ll place her on a towel and blanket, and put her stuffed monkey in the box with her.
Friday is just around the corner, and my baby’s last days are, in fact, last days.
How will I be without her? Who will I be without her? What will I do without her?
I foresee a lot of sad days ahead after this coming Friday, but I will also reach into my memory bank and pull out my fondest memories of her, of us. I have known the best love a human being can know; one without conditions, judgment, or manipulation.
I bit into the cookie butter goodness and relished Biscoff, transported to my first flight amongst the “friendly skies.”
My body nearly convulsed from the sugary deliciousness, but I remained calm.
How can something so small pack such an intense taste and lure me into wanting more?
It’s Saturday, Self-Care Day, and I cared for myself by stealing a sweet treat while my senior dog snored in the background; heavenly bliss.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
I never wanted to be pigeonholed into a category ill-fitting for what and how I write.
I don’t know where I should be or why, but I do know I can write whatever I am assigned. I always have been able to create and build characters out of thin air.
Poetry is my salve. Fiction is sustenance. Nonfiction is time delegating a few memories to those willing to consume.
I am a bustling soul linked to ancestors who told stories about lifestyles and enslavement.
I am my great-grandmother’s twin; I have her eyes, her lips, her walk, and her mannerisms;
I’m the walking dead.
sidereal
she is out of this world–a sidereal creature crafted by the best God I’ve ever known.
a crush I’ve crushed on, and probably will until time leaves me breathless. we hang on every word that pours from our lips.
I’ve become complacent in the knowing of her presence–she’s steadfast in being here, and the moment I shift my presence, she glues herself to everything I’m connected to.
I would typically leave, a ghost with nothing to lose, but she has galaxies for eyes, and I am forever cursed by her.
I’m stone, unable to be chiseled, unable to break. and secretly, she loves it.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
A loner, but just down the block would be an entire family. However, they all ran off as soon as I got close enough for the perfect shot of them. I am sure this one was standing at attention, keeping its eyes on me as I got closer to them. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
Deer Season
Dear Deer Season, we normally don’t meet on these terms, but I’ve seen many does and not that many bucks, and I am wondering, will there be any mating this year?
I know you’d much rather keep it all a secret and surprise me on my walks with new additions, struggling to keep up with the bevy, but I need to know which corners to avoid because Daddy Deer isn’t as friendly.
I haven’t planned on using running mode with these knees, but if I need to kick up my gears, I’ll gladly do so if a male is spotted and is in search of heat that I can’t produce.
“Death by Deer” isn’t a phrase I envisioned on my tombstone.
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-BookandPaperback) yet?
I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak aboutthe most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.
Part II: I have two jobs now; I didn’t know caretaking for a senior dog would be this hard.
August 22, 2025. Part I of a two-part video of a regular morning with Jernee, now as she continues to decline.
This is the first part of how our mornings go now that Jernee is no longer fully independent. She cannot hear. She cannot see. She is losing her faculties and is not truly aware of where she is and what to do.
Being a watchdog for your dog is crazy work, but I eagle-eye her like a hawk, trying my best to keep her safe and to comfort her. The facial expressions she wears now are a combination of confused, lost, sad, and frustrated. My baby girl rarely looks excited, happy, and free these days.
This is the video I cannot watch without breaking down; without losing my cool and feeling like a partial failure because of what’s happening to her. Logically, I know I am not at fault. I know this is God’s plan. We all have to make our grand exit off of this plane and onto the next, but tell that to my heart.
I don’t get much sleep. She wakes up at random hours during the night in a mild state of confusion, or she wants to go outside to potty, or it’s a combination of both.
When she’s whining, I know she’s confused, and she simply needs to be calmed down, so I soothe her and put her in the bed with me. Those moments are the hardest.
I have had to find new ways to keep her safe while I’m at home because if she cannot sense my presence, she will run around our apartment frantically until she can. If she knows I’m at home, she wants me near her, no questions about it.
Taking this into consideration and knowing I do not want her to injure herself, I place her bed we use for sitting outside on our balcony, in the kitchen and bathrooms so she can be around me. Wild, right?!
Yes, you may be saying to yourself, “Why are you doing this?!” But if you witness how terrified Jernee is when she knows I am home and she doesn’t sense me, you would understand.
Jernee Timid: sitting at our kitchen’s entrance in her bed while I prepare her and Zumi’s food, and clean up afterward. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt
When I do this, there is peace in our home. She isn’t whining. She isn’t terrified and panting from searching throughout our apartment for me. She isn’t alone. She knows Mommy isn’t too far away, and that comforts her.
And as long as she is comfortable and in a peaceful state, then I can be “right as rain.”
Please do not let anyone tell you that caring for a senior dog who is declining is easy. I am bearing witness and living through it, and can testify that it is not. It is a labor of love, and a multitude of patience should be in tow.
If you cannot love and you are not patient, do not become a dog owner. Eventually, you will have to endure the inevitable, and they deserve people who will walk calmly and lovingly alongside them toward the end.
A Cornered Gurl 
You must be logged in to post a comment.