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That'll Do, Jag


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It is with a very, very heavy heart that I am sending this email out this morning. We just lost Jag this morning. This came on very suddenly. I ran him in a trial this past weekend and he was off on the second day. I just was thinking that he is getting old as he would have been 10 this coming October. He seemed to recover and was happy to be home this week, talking to us and wanting to take walks. He ate yesterday morning and then I left to go do Invisible Fence lessons. I came home and he came into the garage to greet me. I went in the house and changed. Steve asked if I could finish some of the mowing, which I did. Then I came back up to the house and needed to put the sheep up for the night. Flanked him around and he just walked and laid down. I finished putting them away with another dog and he just walked slowly back to the house with me. I checked his gums and he was very pale. At one point last night his gums were white and then got better. But by 4:30 am I could feel his belly sloshing around and knew that he must have internal bleeding going on. Brought him to the vet this morning and he did have internal bleeding. He was very shocky, very depressed. We didn’t think that he would have even survived surgery and if it was cancer the surgery would have only bought him 4 – 6 months of a not normal life. We made the decision that Jag would not want to live that way, not being able to work sheep ever again. We let him go to work the big flock in the sky. I just can’t believe that he is gone and so quickly. I miss him so much.


Jag was my right hand on the farm. He taught me so much about sheep herding, sheep, etc. We came from novice all the way through open. We had some very nice runs along the way and even got to kick some butt along the way. We had a good run at it, didn’t we Jag. That’ll do, Jag.



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Oh, I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. I cry every time I read one of these. They're here for such a short time; not nearly long enough. Even worse when the death is so sudden. My prayers are with you. Good boy, Jag.

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I am so sorry to hear this. My Jazz just turned 10 this year....I can't even imagine losing him.


For you and Jag


We are thinking now of a setter, whose coat was flame in the sunshine, and who, so far as we are aware, never entertained a mean or an unworthy thought. This setter is buried beneath a cherry tree, under four feet of garden loam, and at its proper season the cherry strews petals on the green lawn of his grave. Beneath a cherry tree, or an apple, or any flowering shrub is an excellent place to bury a good dog. Beneath such trees, such shrubs, he slept in the drowsy summer, or gnawed at a flavorous bone, or lifted his head to challenge some intruder. These are good places in life or in death. Yet it is a small matter, and it touches sentiment more than anything else. For if the dog be well remembered, if sometimes he leaps through your dreams actual as in life, eyes kindling, questing, asking, laughing, begging, it matters not at all where that dog sleeps at long and at last. On a hill where the wind is unrebuked, and the trees are roaring, or beside a stream he knew in puppyhood, or somewhere in the flatness of a pasture lane where most exhilarating cattle graze, it is all one to the dog, and all one to you, and nothing is gained, nothing is lost, if memory lives. But there is one best place to bury a dog. One place that is best of all.


If you bury him in this spot, the secret of which you must already have, he will come to you when you call - come to you over the grim, dim frontiers of death and down the well remembered path and to your side again. And though you call a dozen living dogs to heel they shall not growl at him, or resent his coming, for he is yours and belongs there. People may scoff at you, who see no lightest blade of grass bent by his footfall, who hear no whimper pitched too fine for mere audition, people who may never really have had a dog. Smile at them, for you shall know something that is hidden from them, and which is well worth the knowing. The one best place to bury a good dog is the heart of his master.

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So, so sorry Kathy. As Im sure you know, I lost my 10 yr old Lexy to Lymphoma 2 weeks ago, so I share your pain, and understand your loss that is so incedibly deep.

Gods Speed Jag, you and Lex can keep each other company, and keep those sheep in line.

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Once again I am devastated to see a new post in this section. My heart aches for you. I hope this though might be of some comfort:


I lost a treasured friend today,

The little dog who used to lay

His gentle head upon my knee

And share his silent thoughts with me...


He'll come no longer to my call,

Retrieve no more his favorite ball;

A voice far greater than my own

Has called him to His golden throne.


Although my eyes are filled with tears,

I thank Him for the happy years

He let him spend down here with me

And for his love and loyalty.


When it is time for me to go

And join him there, this much I know...

I shall not fear the transient dark

For he will greet me with his bark.


~ Author Unknown


Via con Dios, Jag.

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