Jade, the Corgi and Her Friend, A Short Tail - Part 2

 Jade, the Corgi, and Her Friend: A Short Tail ~ Part Two

Jade, our six-year-old Corgi, had her first fantastic encounter with a wild fox. “But Jade’s future held another encounter” finished part one of the story.

The second encounter with her wild fox friend was even more incredible, but something happened that I didn’t expect. Corgis are intelligent, therefore, stubborn. They know best, never letting you forget they are a superior form of canine life. This description fits Jade to a tee.

For a month after Jade’s first romp with her wild fox friend, she didn’t stray out of her yard. I vigilantly watched her from the patio door when she roamed the yard for her nightly constitutional. I lifted my vigilance as the days passed, thinking the fox wouldn’t return. Careless me!

The chilly fall temperatures changed to crisp and cold at night as winter approached. On the night of Jades’s second dalliance with the fox, my neglect almost cost me the companionship of my beloved Corgi. I let my guard down and stepped away for too long. While she was outside, I loaded the evening dishes into the dishwasher and took clothes from the dryer to fold. Usually, Jade returned after completing her business and waited by the patio door when I took longer to call her in.

As I approached the door, I didn’t see her waiting. I stepped out onto the lighted patio and called her, searching the dark yard for signs of movement. Nothing. No Jade.

I walked toward the empty lot while calling her to come. Did she follow an intriguing scent further than usual? My heart started beating faster as I walked toward the side and front yard to see if she was lurking near the street–no Jade. I walked back to our backyard, looking over at our neighbor’s yard. Again, no Jade, and I felt alarmed because she was nowhere in our immediate area.

Did I mention that Corgis are stubborn and intelligent? Jade is as stubborn as a Corgi can be, but she sticks around the house for fear of losing out on a meal or treat. She loves her food! 

“She’s gone,” I thought, but my mind couldn’t grab ahold of the terrible ramifications of losing her. “Would she wander far?” She had never wandered out of our area in the years since we brought her home. Corgis are a popular breed. “Did someone take her to sell her?” I didn’t hear a car or her barking at a stranger. “Would her kidnaper mistreat her?” Within moments of realizing she was gone, I strung out various scenarios producing rising panic way out of proportion. 

I edged my way across the empty lot, calling her name, looking all around the building site adjacent to the vacant lot. “Maybe she found something interesting to explore on the building site?” No Jade, but I kept calling. As I turned back to the house to get John involved in searching for Jade, I saw her! Relief flooded my heart as the street light revealed her silhouette. Jade trotted on the sidewalk by the empty lot with the fox. “Oh no, not again,” I thought! Mr. Fox was following four feet behind her. I always thought of the fox as Mr. Fox. They weren’t frolicking or playing this time but presented an animal parade of two out for a friendly nighttime stroll. Jade was walking along casually with the fox following as if this was their nightly routine.

As I kept calling her closer to home, the fox hesitated when he heard my voice, glanced my way, and continued to follow Jade. Instead of cutting across the empty lot, they took the sidewalk around to our side yard. Mr. Fox didn’t stop until Jade was several feet away from me. Suddenly, Mr. Fox paused his pursuit, looked at Jade and me, then he circled to move away from us. He looked a second time as I steered Jade around the corner of the house to the back door.  When Jade was safely inside, I peeked my head around the corned, and Mr. Fox was gone, like a ghost. 

I will never know what compelled Mr. Fox's attraction to Jade. Even though neutered, her female scent may have drawn him near. Did Jade tell him of the cache of food hidden in the garage? Was his den nearby? Is Mr. Fox still roaming our old neighborhood looking for his friend, Jade? We will never know because we retired to a different state last year. Our new retirement state has many new friends for us all to meet. When friendships are new, be like Jade, and have an adventure. 

And stay tuned, we may have another Jade and friend story for you soon!

Update: July 6, 2022 

Three months have passed since Jade left us. I remember, from the picture above, Jade showed all the signs of increasing pain and mobility challenges. After several months of vet visits, meds and carrying her out to potty because her pain was great, we made the difficult decision to end her life. Jade stories come from my memories now, a super-sweet, stubborn furball who invaded my heart for five short years. I miss you girlfriend.

Jade, the Corgi, and Her Friend - A Short Tail

 

Jade, The Corgi, and Her Friend - A Short Tail

John, my husband, found her on the internet. I spent a year researching different dog breeds and settled on finding a Corgi. I fell in love with the Corgi breed, liking their medium size, intelligence, family loyalty, and cute ways. The downside of Corgi ownership is stubbornness, difficulty training, and a fine, white undercoat of fur shedding year-round. This Corgi would be no match for my stubbornness! We did not suffer from pet allergies and I have a sweeper.

    Jade’s internet pictures showed a pretty face, and kohl-ringed amber eyes with a black, tan, and white coat of fur, and, cutest of all, the short stubby legs and long body common to Corgis. My search centered on a young adult dog because I did not want a puppy. Puppies demand 24/7 care to acclimate them to a family in the first six months to a year; like having a baby in the house. We owned two puppies while our children were at home. A puppy would not suit our empty nest. 

    Cara, a private Corgi breeder, advertised two-year-old Jade for sale because she did not breed successfully. John and I scheduled a time to drive the hour and a half to central Wisconsin in late May. The Saturday before Mother’s Day, I couldn’t wait any longer. I called to ask Cara if we could meet her. “Come on ahead. We’ll be home all day”, Cara agreed. We put together a doggy kit— collar, leash, treats, and a blanket for the backseat of the truck.

    Two months earlier, we met a lovely rescue dog, Faye Ray, a lively black lab mix. Her skittishness and fear around new people would make adoption a long road of rehabilitation. To help her overcome her fear of people demanded a lot of patience and skill which I did not have. After searching for months, I sadly walked away from Faye Ray. While looking at Jade’s picture in my hands, I held my emotions close for fear of more disappointment and nervously prayed Jade would be the one.

    We rounded a sharp country corner and pulled into the breeder’s large, grassy farmyard. The yard teemed with Corgis of all ages, colors, and sizes. They raced around each other and the family’s children. After meeting Cara, the breeder, and her nine children, I searched the dogs for a familiar face, then John said, “There she is!” 

    She didn’t race around like the other dogs and puppies but took her time ambling over to Cara. Jade’s beauty and dignity tempered her subdued personality. She kept aloof from the other Corgis with behavior befitting a lady with impeccable manners. Jade and I bonded within the first five minutes. Astonished, Jade walked up to me and sat at my feet. Cara exclaimed, “She’s never sat down next to a stranger! I think she’s yours.” Indeed, she still is my dog five years later.

    When she settled in, food and treats were Jade’s biggest motivator for obedience. With a treat in my hand, Jade came willingly to my side without a leash. Unfortunately, Jade put on weight earning me a thorough dressing down from our vet, Dr. Baker. “Corgi backs and short leg joints are susceptible to injury and joint damage if Jade’s weight is not kept down around 30 pounds”, Dr. Baker warned. Every check-up brought a weight management warning and my same response, “Look at me, Dr. Baker”, gesturing to my expanding middle. “It’s obvious Jade and I love food!” Finally, Dr. Baker conceded her excellent health outweighed (pun intended) her need to slim down. 

        A tree-lined railroad track and cornfields about half a mile away attracted wild animals to our subdivision at night. Deer, raccoons, woodchucks, rabbits, and foxes moved closer to our residential area when the temperatures dropped. 

    One dark, star-lit evening, I let Jade out for her evening pee. The promise of bedtime treats guaranteed she stayed close to the house without a fence. Jade rarely wandered off and came inside when I called. I kept watch while she roamed outside just in case she found something interesting next door. I walked away briefly then returned to the patio door looking for Jade. I didn’t see her. When I opened the door to a chilly blast of autumn air to call her in, she disappeared from the boundary of her yard. I stepped outside but didn’t see her outside the circle of the porch light. I kept calling for her while my eyes adjusted to the dark. I looked towards the empty lot and saw her moving around. “That’s unusual,” I thought. “Is she playing with another dog?” I was puzzled because our neighbors don’t allow their pets to run free and Jade rarely leaves her yard. Jade and her new friend cavorted weaving in and out and circling one another. The other dog had a sharp face, pointed nose, sinuous body, and a long bushy tail. Jade played with a fox! A wild animal played with my dog! An alarm sped through me like a jolt of electricity when I thought of fox bites, rabies, and a wild animal tearing my dog’s throat in a fight.

    Quickly I grabbed her leash and found our flashlight. I continued to call her while I walked toward the edge of the empty lot. My voice took on a panicky edge and I upped my volume and intensity, making threats. “You get back here now or no treats tonight! Jade! I am not fooling around! Come here now!” Her concentrated play with her new fox friend took her full attention.  

    With the promise of a treat, Jade made her way toward our patio with the fox close behind. “Oh, no,” I muttered. “How am I going to get Jade inside, without the fox coming into our house?” Opening the patio door, Jade and I slipped inside and I slammed it shut. I looked out watching our curious fox walk toward our lighted patio. The fox stopped short of the circle of the porch light and appeared healthy with no mange. Neighbors told us they recently saw a sick fox with mange wandering near our subdivision. My presence by the patio door didn’t scare it away. Was the fox a Freddy or Frannie fox or were her baby kits nearby? Suddenly, it arched into the air coming down on its front feet on a mouse or vole. 

    Without barking or whining, Jade watched her new friend toss the fresh catch in the air and play with it. With fascination, I watched the action right in front of me.

    Then the fox turned, gave me a last look with her catch in her teeth, and loped away. “I better check to make sure Jade doesn’t have any bites or marks from the fox,” I reminded myself. I didn’t find a scratch. She looked up and gave me her Corgi grin. I could hear her thinking, “I love my new friend but she smelled different than my other four-pawed friends. What’s up with that, Mom?” After the fox disappeared, I felt a mixture of relief for Jade’s safety and wonder over Jade’s encounter with a wild fox.

    For days, thinking back on Jade and her unforgettable fox and hound encounter, I was awe-struck a wild creature befriended my dog and displayed its playful nature right in front of me. 

    But Jade’s future held another encounter.

Message To a Friend

How can I begin to explain what your posting means to me? Over a year ago I asked you and your wife to beta read my first draft of Missing Pages. You gracefully replied that you could not finish my illogical, disjointed mess of a draft (my words). It stung me and reinforced the same words that hung on my black robe of shame; not enough, will not finish, insecure & failure. I told you, and myself, “I understand. Thank you for trying.”  I minimized my pain! 

Several weeks later, my young editor returned the first draft printed out and presented in a flat white box. She apologized for taking so long but it was due to severe morning sickness from her first pregnancy. Happiness for her and her husband stirred with nervousness inside me.

She handed the full box to me holding onto her end and said, “This book is yours and my suggested edits are just that, suggestions. You are the author to do with them as you see fit”. She continued with direct eye contact. “As you decide what edits to keep or discard, you will run into decision fatigue, so be gentle with yourself.” That statement led me to believe the edits were extensive and ramped up my insecurity.

When I nervously opened the box several weeks later, the printed manuscript was annotated in detail with different colored pens on almost every page (both sides!).  I skimmed through the edited draft through a shimmer of tears. All I saw was a virtual, red F on every page. I was devastated and lost hope. 

The next few months we downsized, said all our goodbyes and sold the Wisconsin house. I gave myself a vacation from the book until we settled in Tennessee. Every time I sat to edit, I slogged through the mud. I almost shelved it…until God gave me a fresh vision to write my story chronologically. As I reread the 2nd draft Chrono version, it read like a travel log; no life, no story, no showing, only telling, no dialogue; just blah. But it gave me a framework. I held onto that draft lightly for a time, waiting on inspiration. 

Two God-inspiring waves of hope came soon after I finished the chronology draft. I found an excellent local writing group that offered gentle critique and encouragement. One day I scrolled as usual on Facebook. Leslie Leyland Fields' book, “Your Story Matters” promo piqued my curiosity. Years ago I read her book, “Forgiving Your Fathers and Mothers” and was deeply impacted by her story. I loved how her writing flowed and drew me in. Now I belong to her online community with a video course based on “Your Story Matters”. The method she teaches to write my stories has breathed new life into my book. The third edit is underway with more energy and renewed hope. 

I have been avoiding the pain of failure in writing my story because of fear and unbelief. I asked myself, “What will my family think? Will they be mad at me? Will I hurt someone else?" I rebelled in pride against God's constructive critique through others; not only you but several others. As I walk with God to another locked door of my heart, I don’t walk alone. Your posting about God going with us to the hard places revealed the loving nature of God and His people. My prayer is, “Lord, I have amnesia of the soul and I forget how much you love me. Thanks for my friend’s reminder that you are willing to go THERE with me, over and over!”  

Nancy B