The Heroic Acts of Jubilee

debbieraecorazon
Oct 29, 2023
7 min read

Special meals for good dogs!

Our dog Jubilee would lie on the front porch when I traveled, waiting, watching, protecting our home. Our house was big, so I had a roommate who fed and cared for Jubilee while I was gone. My son, an older teen then, had his own car and navigated between his dad’s house and mine, mostly staying at his dad’s when I was away, coming over to pick up fresh clothes and to visit Jubilee.

When I was a child growing up on a farm, our dogs were a big part of our lives, but it was a different time and we treated them differently. Dogs slept outside on the porch. They ate the cheapest dog food and occasional table scraps.

Jubilee and I are the continuation of a domestication and be-friending process that began 30,000 years ago. One of my favorite cartoons shows a pack of wolves looking at a human settlement in one panel, and one wolf saying to another, “They have food. What could go wrong?” The next panel shows a poodle dressed up in little bows and a sweater.

.Jubilee was not a dog who would tolerate bows or sweaters. She loved the woods. Together, we ran the river path. Her eyes were wolf-like. Barely domesticated, she bit into the tender neck of a small chipmunk that ran across her path, then tossed it indifferently to the side of the dirt path and continued on her way. Predator is what predator does.

She was a great huntress and protector. I felt safe with her vigilant eyes and ears watching out for us. Our bond was as tightly braided as any.

On one of my runs, she had looped off to hunt. I was coming down a steep dirt hill that ran from the upper bluff down to the river. It was a dry, hot summer day, and the smell of pine needles baking in the sun filled the air. I stopped midway down to watch a pair of ospreys play on the air currents.

A movement at the bottom of the hill caught my eye. I looked down to see a man hiding behind a pine tree, staring at me. I froze. My mind began calculating where I could run to quickly, where it was less desolate and I wouldn’t be so vulnerable. The man stood between me and the trail back to The Crossing. In the opposite direction, the trail dead-ended at the river, its strong currents white-capping over the rocks. Behind me was a straight-up slope to the top of the bluff, where a few houses were scattered. Could I outrun him?

He started wiggling his finger, as if beckoning me to come down the slope, while his other hand slid down toward his groin.

At the top of my lungs I yelled, “Jubilee! Jubilee!”

Within moments a streak of black dog, like a shadowy bolt, came dashing down the hill and toward the man behind the tree. He began running, scared witless, Jubilee at his heels.

Don’t mess with anyone in Jubilee’s pack.

One hot summer day, I, Marcus, and several of the neighbors grabbed air mattresses and inner tubes for a cool float down the river. In late summer, the river, while still wide, quiets sweetly, moving at a near sloth pace, except where the old bridge used to hang. The big boulders there create rapids that require a small amount of skill and a good dose of courage to meander through. We were near the rapids when I realized that Jubilee had been following us along the trail and now, as we got near this gurgling portion of the river, she was trying to swim out to meet us. She was nervous for us, and we were nervous for her. She was nearly ten years old now and the years were slowing her down. I could see her struggling in the current. I tried, but was unable to paddle to her on my air mattress. Fortunately, she managed to get back to shore and continued down the path. When I made it to shore myself, I found her trembling in the shrubs. She whined in that heart-wrenching way dogs do when they are deeply heartbroken and in true despair.

Sadly, the fight in the rapids took her down a notch. She was a bit weaker after that.

We exchanged evening runs for walks. Her right leg was becoming arthritic, tightening up her hips so her walk was hobbled and stiff. Frankly, I was getting older and slowing down a bit, too. We were still sympatico. On one of these evening walks, I saw Jubilee look behind us, a wary look in her eyes. I turned to see that we were being stalked by three coyotes, who obviously sensed Jubilee’s more weakened physicality. I imagined they had been watching that proud she-dog for years as she bounded over the river trails and were thinking it would be great sport to take her down.

Oh, but it was time for me to repay all the protection she had given me over the years. Angrily, I stomped toward those grizzled grey beasts, yelling and waving my hands. Damned if they were going to get to my Jubilee! They turned tail and ran back into the brush. I patted Jubilee’s black head reassuringly.

Jubilee lived to be sixteen years. Until the week of her death, we continued to walk, although toward the end it was just a slow walk to the end of the street. It was a ritual we both treasured.

She had never been a furniture dog. She preferred to lie on the floor, or better yet, outside, where she could keep watch over The Crossing. Because she had that heavy coat of black fur, this preference was just fine with me. However, in her later years, I realized she had a little secret—a private decadence she enjoyed when no one was home. I started catching her jumping off the sofa when I walked in the door. Her loss of hearing prevented her from hearing my car pull into the driveway. Hmmm! That explained all those black hairs on the furniture over the years.

It was a sad day when she passed. Marcus and I buried her in a hand-dug hole in the back yard under a wild rose bush. So, this is another tale of a great spirit passing. In life, loss is how time is marked. The pursuing tears are how our love is measured.

The older I get, the more spoiled my dogs are.

My new dog, little Ellie, stretches her 95-pound body between me and my partner like a deer, legs sprawling everywhere. She delights in chasing balls and having doggy playdates. A fawn-colored rescue, she’s a wonder whose breed we don’t know, nor do we care.

Curled up against her, there is pure sweetness. I feel like I’m getting an endorphin IV drip. Sleep on the porch? I don’t think so. When she turned one, she had a birthday party. The neighborhood dogs attended. She received presents and shared her birthday cake with her doggy playmates. Yes, I’ve become one of those people.

Some people might say it’s a bit extreme. I do not care. If we all are “going to the dogs,” we will be better for it. With their enthusiasm for small gestures, they remind us that we do not have to be great to be wonderful, nor handsome to be beautiful. How can we possibly give them the love they deserve in the short time we are blessed with them?

This chapter is for all the good Fidos in the world. Yummy recipes for dogs. Bon appétit!

Translated to doggy language: Ruff! Ruff!

Note: These recipes use only healthy ingredients. However, they are meant to be treats and should be given only in moderation. If your dog is overweight or has any health issues, please consult your veterinarian before feeding any of these treats. Portion size will vary in accordance with your dog’s size and weight. Most of these will make multiple servings.

Happily Going to the Dogs Recipes

Spaghetti with Meatballs

Ingredients:

Whole wheat spaghetti- cooked according to package directions

1–2 tablespoons of olive oil for drizzling and for baking pan

½ lb. ground beef

1 egg

1–2 tablespoons shredded parmesan cheese

Cook whole wheat spaghetti according to package directions. When finished, use a knife to cut spaghetti into one-inch pieces and drizzle with olive oil.

In a small bowl, mix the ground beef with the egg and shape into bite-sized balls. Place the small meatballs in a glass baking pan that is greased with olive oil. Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes. Let noodles and meatballs cool completely. Serve meatballs over the oiled noodles with a sprinkling of parmesan cheese.

Meatloaf

1 lb ground beef

1 egg

¼ cup shredded carrots

¼ cup quick rolled oats

3 tablespoons tomato paste (make sure there is no sugar or salt added)

Mix all ingredients except the tomato paste. Form into a loaf and place in a loaf pan, greased with olive oil. Spread tomato paste on the top. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes.

I like to bake sliced, unseasoned sweet potatoes with the meatloaf as a nice accompaniment.

Cool completely before serving.

Ground Turkey, Green Bean, Sweet Potato, and Brown Rice Casserole

1 lb ground turkey

¼ cup chopped frozen green beans

One sweet potato, peeled and cubed

1 cup cooked brown rice

Mix raw turkey with frozen green beans, cubed sweet potatoes, and cooked rice. Bake in an oiled casserole dish (I always use olive oil because it’s good for dogs) at 350 degrees for 30 minutes or until there is no longer pink showing in the turkey meat and the sweet potato can be pierced easily with a fork. Cool completely before serving.

Doggy Birthday Cake

1 cup whole wheat flour  

1 teaspoon baking soda  

2 tablespoons vegetable oil 

¼ cup natural creamy peanut butter—xylitol free! 

½ cup plain applesauce  

½ cup pumpkin puree

½ cup shredded carrots

3 tablespoons milk 

 1 egg

Frosting

1 cup plain Greek yogurt  