Josh posted earlier today about the
loss of John, one of our San Pedro Dog Park regulars.
We also lost Judy, another dog park regular, on Nov. 25, the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. She was 69 and had been diagnosed with a very aggressive form of acute (and untreatable) leukemia only about a month earlier.
I met Judy McDonald and her son, Marc, several years ago when they had recently adopted their black lab Bailey from a local shelter. I suppose our friendship was solidified one evening when we were the last folks at the park, which in those days was at the top of Knoll Hill.
It was dark by the time we left and Marc and Judy drove down the hill right behind me. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, I realized I had a flat tire. I didn't have my cell phone with me and so they followed me until I reached a pay phone at the Grinder where I could call AAA.
Later, Judy was kind enough to invite me to their house for a family barbecue on Labor Day when I didn't have any plans.
Through the years as we talked at the dog park, Judy and I rehashed nearly every episode of "Little House on the Prairie," a favorite show of ours that had recently turned up in reruns. Judy had every episode on video as well. She loved Native American decor, scary movies, the state of Montana and Christmas snowmen.
We talked a lot about our dogs, of course, sharing tips, worrying when one of them wasn't acting right and laughing at their antics. She sure loved her Bailey. And when I lost my dogs Pilgrim and Ellie over the course of the past year, Judy -- whom I hadn't seen as regularly in a while -- made a special point of calling me at home after she'd heard the news third hand, offering her condolences. She sounded almost as sad as I felt.
I was sorry I hadn't gotten to know Judy a little better. As I listened at the funeral to the stories and anecdotes from her close friends and family -- and looked at the many photographs of her through the years displayed -- I saw Judy in a new light; more "in context," if you will, as a person apart from the dog park.
Feisty and quirky she could be -- she was known to mix it up now and again with folks who crossed her. But she also was a devoted mom of five (her kids and grandkids all called her "Mema"). Judy was a hard worker, starting her own house cleaning business after her husband died unexpectedly more than a decade ago; she overcame her share of hardships. And she was loyal -- she went to great lengths for those she loved.
Her family is missing her terribly this Christmas, a holiday that Judy especially loved. Losing a mom is so hard.
Three of us from the dog park attended her funeral. Along with so many others, we will also miss her.
Bound together by our love of dogs, dog park people are an unlikely lot, strangers who come from all walks of life to form friendships that sometimes trail along for years, in bits and pieces. These relationships are played out in an unlikely string of short snippets: impromptu chats around the water bowl, weekly talks sitting on a bench, your dogs lying at your feet.
And while we don't always get to know each other deeply, we grieve and feel the void just the same when one of us is suddenly gone, leaving what was once a friend's favorite bench looking very empty indeed.
Daily Breeze reporter Donna Littlejohn has shared her homes with a succession of wonderful, funny, and occasionally difficult canines -- Muffin, Fritz, Ellie, Mercy, Pilgrim and now Cowboy, an Australian shepherd-border collie, and Tess, a border collie. From strong-willed terriers to weirdly obsessed Australian shepherds, they've invaded her world with boundless energy, wet noses, muddy paws and soggy tennis balls. But they've really brought so much more than that -- like laughter and joy, some unexpected life lessons, and more than a few tears along the way.
Josh Grossberg grew up with the usual array of animals: goldfish, dogs, hamsters, parakeets and turtles. He now owns the loudest dog in the South Bay(Video: Rocket the Dog) and is the least popular person on his block. He spends his free time in dog parks, pet shops and always has an extra plastic bag in his pocket just in case. He also has a cat.
i love you mema. you will be missed.
Beautiful story. Thank you for sharing. God Bless Judith and her family.
I wanted to say thank you for the blog that you put in the paper. (The Empty Bench - Judith McDonald).
This means the word to her children just knowing that someone cared.
Judith McDonald's
son-in-law