Jah Love

We got Jah the summer that Japhy died. Somehow, it made sense-lose a friend get a dog...find yourself responsible for a life in order to substantiate that you still have one. We named him Jah, since Japhy liked reggae and, well, for me anyways, it was cool that Jah means "God" in rastafarian and "Dog" backwards is "God." Jah was such a sweet spirited bundle when we got him. He made college more rounded, adding an element of responsibility and fun that somehow enhanced the experience. He would ride with us as we pedaled bikes, running fast, leading the way to campus, tied loosely to a bench while we were in class. He became a campus wide name, everyone loved Jah. He was our fist baby, the glue that held us together, the representation of our connection, the committing factor. Sometimes it would occur to me that he was a metaphor for our love, he was the symbolic embodiment of our connect. When I went to Jersey to find a place I was devastated to find that no one would rent for a dog. I wanted him with me so badly, even though I knew he would be happier in Idaho. Then, he came to Jersey, in a place chosen for a baby and a dog and 2 cats. The night I went into labor with River was Jah's last night as my baby. I held onto him through contractions and when River was born, and Jah heard me scream and smelled the birth blood, he knew he became a dog. He is blind now. Totally blind. Almost a year ago, he wandered out of the yard and was hit in the behind, and then the cataracts overcame him, the trauma shocked his system. He bumps into things now. He searches for us and his food with his nose. Sometimes I think he is truly a metaphor for us. Sometimes I think we died when Japhy did and then Jah lived.