Hey Jude

I knew when I was in the barn this morning something just felt off. After the horses were done eating their morning grain, I turned them out into the slowly greening pasture. The birds were chirping their greetings of spring, the school bus pulled up with a mechanical grind across the street, Sydney and Romeo made loud grunts and snorts while taking a morning roll in the mud. Yet, it seemed oddly quiet in spite of the usual morning sounds.

My aunt wandered down just as I was getting ready to get in to my car leave for work.
"We had Judi put to sleep last night."
Judi was my aunt's beagle. She was named for her sister. The same sister who was my dad's long time girlfriend who had passed away from cancer 14 years ago. The same sister who taught me to ride horses.
No wonder it was so seemingly quiet. The usual booo-whooo beagle bark wasn't permeating through the yard. Anyone who has encountered a beagle knows the distinct baying howl of their bark. Judi enjoyed tormenting me with that howl. She would silently creep up behind me while I was engrossed in something. When I least expected it she would let out a deafening, "BOOOO-WHOOOO!" This would lead to someone having to scrape me off the ceiling. I swear that dog would scamper off, proud as hell in her latest accomplishment. If dogs could snicker I know she was doing it.
Judi had so many quirks and Beagle-like antics we took to singing at her constantly.
"Hey Jude, we know you're bad, take a bad bone and make it better. The minute the cat gets under your skin, then you'll begin to bark like madder."

OK, Paul McCartney may not be happy with our misconstrued lyrics, but trust me. For ten years we had fun making up many other verses. In my case they often contained expletives that centered around the "Let's Sneak up on Nesi and Scare the Bejesus Out of Her" game that she liked to play with me.
It was after losing Gwen that we discovered the reason Judi was losing weight. Stomach cancer. I have no scientific proof but I swear she got it from eating acorns non stop ever since she was a puppy. She was ten years old, so I know for purebreds that is a ripe old age. She managed to hang on seemingly pain-free and active up until her last day. She barked at me the entire time I was there Thursday morning. She even did her usual run along the fence, chasing my car out the driveway, booo-whoooing the whole way. I probably even muttered,” stupid dog" like I usually did. I always meant it with love.
"Hey Jude. I'm going to miss you. You were a bad dog, but God I loved ya..."