Julius Lotti

It is with broken hearts that we announce the passing of our sweet polar bear pupper, Julius Lotti. Julius left us on June 19th—just ten days short of his third anniversary with his mama and dad.

Julius adopted us on June 29, 2007, seven months to the day that Barkley passed away. Rescue friend Elena casually mentioned the regal but older dog that had shelter kennel attendants in awe with his manners and training. But we really weren’t ready for another doggy presence. Still, when Lisa dropped off kittens off at the shelter spay/neuter clinic that fateful June 29th morning, kennel attendants quietly asked if she might be interested in meeting “Chris”—such a ridiculous dog name—and if so, they would sneak her into his kennel;). So...into the kennel goes Lisa. And there was our Julius, sitting quietly. He came over to gently greet his visitor—no licking, no jumping—just an
eye-to-eye hello. “Can you sit?” Lisa asked. He sat. “Can you shake?” He shook paws. “Can you lay down?” He laid down. It was a relatively quick interview;). Two minutes of ear-rubbing later, Lisa called George and reported that (if it was ok with him), she would be bringing home a 70 pound dog. George said yes. Then Lisa casually checked the kennel card. “Chris--120 lbs.” Oops. Lisa did not call George back to report her minor weight error.

One call to BFF Rachel and one trip to An Jan (leash, collar and a very big bed) later, Chris was loaded up in the Merlot Mobile and on his way to Starbucks, where he met his auntie-vet for a latte and a physical:). The shelter said he was 8; Rachel said 6. We liked 6 better. He also received his first jeweled collar ornament and a kiss on the mouth, the most important aspect of Rachel Boltz medicine.

A trip to the groomer ensued. Mark promised a temperament evaluation and Lisa promised she would be shaving the pup down just once, to rid him of all the mats and bad memories. It was a deal. Three hours later, she picked up what looked like a gigantic white lab with (what Mark proclaimed to be) the world’s best temperament. Who still looked 120 pounds. Damn.

Once home, Chris made his home on his new bed and we patiently waited for Dad. Dad’s first words upon meeting his new kid? “That is NOT a 70 pound dog!!” Damn accurate numbers people! But despite the tiny shock of 50 more pounds of dog than expected, dad and dog locked eyes and became best buddies in less than two seconds—an instantaneous bond.

Then came the naming dilemma. It had to happen soon, as “Chris” was our neighbor down the street—not our dog. Bacchus and Julius were tossed around, among several other (around 300) names. But when we presented with the short list, Adobe staff overwhelmingly said Julius was it. And the polar bear got his official Julius Lotti tag that same day.

We have so many favorite memories of our J-Dog. The day after he became a Lotti, his parents had to attend an all day Unconditional Love fundraising event. Panicked at the thought of the damage a 120 pound pup could do to the Lotti furniture, we asked our good friend and neighbor, James, to check on him. James called back a few minutes later to report, “If tearing up the house means snoring on the sofa, then yes—your house is destroyed.”. Thus began the tradition of us leaving, J commandeering the sofa and snoozing till his parents returned. Unless it was warm. Then, the napping place of choice was the half-bathroom, which must have resembled the perfect den to J-Dog. We loved getting home and hearing the jingle of the collar as he stood up and peeked out, just to make sure mama and/or dad was home.

We realized today that this loss has been devastating for many reasons—J came into our lives when Lisa was having health issues (diagnosed by Julius before any doctor when he came to the couch, sniffed Lisa up and down, and placed his head directly on her gall bladder, which was removed a week later) and just before George’s mom was diagnosed with cancer and we basically moved in with her, leaving him to hold down the fort. He saw us through truly the toughest times in our marriage and lives with grace and quiet strength that allowed us to focus on difficult tasks at hand. He was the first canine presence that we actually chose to bring home—probably because we needed him as much as he needed us.

Julius was loaded up and brought home by his mama, but in reality, he was his daddy’s boy. When mom got home, there was a casual dog “hey!” from the couch. But when DAD got home—oh, my goodness! It was off the couch, tail-wagging joy. And J was always rewarded with ample head and ear scratches and “how’s my good boy??” from George—the love-fest would last and last! J’s dad was his number one favorite person. Walks with Dad were the best—especially on the weekends. George would explain patiently that mommy needed coffee—give him a minute—and J would snort and give mom that look and retreat to his bed...for a few minutes, until his patience wore out and he would get up and look at George and say, “Come ON already!!”. And then they were off on the 45 minute trek around the block, where J read and delivered tons of “pee-mail” at the most leisurely of paces. A visit with Magnum Erickson, J’s BDFF, always made for a perfect trip. “Smell you later, J-Dog!” “Smell you later, Mags!”

Julius Lotti had two bad habits—digging and barking. He patiently watched the Lotti back yard transformed into a serene and beautiful space, and then dug holes wherever he could. He and mama battled. She would fill the hole, he would dig. When you visit the Lotti back yard, take note of the metal bug statues. Those were Julius-blockers. After two bugs, mama gave up. His bone still lays by the fountain—he checked it and dug around it for the last time on June 18th, just to remind us that all the bugs in the world could not stop our “Digger Phelps.”

Or “Bob Barker”—J’s nicknames reflected his bad-dog ways. We owe deep thanks to neighbors who tolerated his vociferous ownership of HIS BACK YARD. It drove his mama crazy. Of course, we would give anything to hear that bark now...

One more pass at memories—Julius was completely zen around other dogs (a first for us—Barkley and Gatsby HATED their fellow canines). Julius LOVED children and allowed them to climb all over him with the patience of St. Francis himself. Julius negotiated a peace treaty with Buddy Cat, probably because Buddy kicked his ass on a couple of occasions, thus inspiring the 120 pound dog to bow to the terror of the five pound cat. Julius was an off-leash dog. He made this announcement last July 4th, when, while Dad was busy making margaritas, he simply took himself for the walk he wanted. No leash necessary after that.

We knew J was winding down during the past few months. Getting up got harder. A few accidents happened in the house, which mortified him. But on June 1st, the day after spending a great day with the Klintworth kids crawling all over him, he suddenly lost his ability to get up. We rushed him to Adobe, where Auntie Rachel and Liz Houston and the fabulous Adobe staff stabilized him. The goal became “Let’s get through summer.”. Then, “Let’s get through June 29th” and finally, “Let’s make it to Father’s Day.” We woke up every three hours to help him up, with George pulling the majority of those long nights. Once up, he could go for short walks. Until June 19th. On that day, he lost his ability to stand. And he told us in his very clear doggy way with those beautiful eyes that (as his Auntie Rachel so eloquently put it), “he had stayed as long as he could.”

Julius had a fabulous last week – he got to spend time with his neighborhood, with his favorite “peeps”, and with his best dog buddy, Magnum. It’s understandable that he chose Saturday to let us know he was ready to go. Gratefully, those closest to our big white polar bear got to say goodbye.

June 19th was a horrible day—but there were such amazing, beautiful things about that day that we will always remember. Gary and George carefully lifted J and his bed into the same car that brought him home for one last ride. Our amazing vet friend, Denise, who was our chosen J-dog “ender of suffering” offered to come to our house. But Julius loved rides so much. We drove him up and down 280 for almost an hour, windows down, fur blowing in the wind, big smile on his doggy face. It was perfect. And when we got to Adobe, Julius didn’t even have to leave the car. Dad lay down beside him and Julius rested his head on his daddy’s shoulder, eyes closed. Mom stroked those amazing soft ears. And Denise actually crawled into the back of the car and took care of our polar bear right there. One quiet last look at both of us, and he peacefully went to sleep. And Aunt Rachel was right there to pick up the mom and dad pieces. It was exactly as it should have been.

Though our lives will never be the same, we are beyond grateful for the gift of Julius, our Polar Bear Pyrenees, for the past three years. He was as beautiful inside as he was outside, and he made his mama and daddy better people for having chosen him.