The scent of freshly cut grass filled her flared nostrils as she raced down Altavista Lane on a warm summer afternoon. Freed from the nylon shackles of my afternoon walk, it was time for a run. And then she ran for two blocks with reckless abandon, without a care in the world.
Julia was adopted by my parents from the Dallas SPCA as a rescue dog, and her name comes from Julia Roberts, an actor with a penchant for dramatic escapades in the movie “Runaway Bride.” Julia became a bit of a neighborhood celebrity during her early years in the mom-and-pop home, as she was frequently mentioned on local community blogs.
Prison breakouts were common. This was a freedom Julia had never known before. She runs free, rushes thoughtlessly over the neighborhood’s flowers, leaves behind a stinking trail of unappreciated gifts, and, for a moment at least, indulges in the joys of life and lives to the fullest. I was able to do that.
Julia went through her fair share of hardships before being adopted into her forever family. I never knew exactly how old she was or the trauma she had endured, but I always knew there was a story to tell in her kind but sad golden-gray eyes. Ta.
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She had certainly experienced the ugly side of what humans can do to their dogs.
Julia kept her head low when a large lurking male was nearby and always cringed at the sound of loud voices or thundering lights. When you lock eyes with her, she looks into your soul and tells you the story of the pain she left behind.
However, through her calm demeanor, kind expression, and graceful rest, she let us know that she had overcome the hardships of her early life. She loved her new family with the unconditional love that only a dog can give. Similarly, my family showered her with love and doting affection every day.
Julia loved love. It’s not a characteristic unique to dogs. But the difference for Julia is that that love literally sustained her and allowed her to live her life without the emotional impact of her abusive past.
Julia had been ill for some time. Doctors found a lump in her breast and we knew she was nearing the end of her life. She walked slowly with clumsy steps, no longer trying to run away from the humans. Julia’s final days included looking into her mother’s eyes and telling her how much she loved her and that she understood that her mother loved her unconditionally. I did.
On a recent October morning, we said goodbye to Julia. As she made her final dash across the Rainbow Bridge, her family gathered to comfort and love her. We laid our hands on her, prayed, and ran away for a final treat, just like we did when she was a puppy.
we cried. a lot.
These days, my family and I don’t always see eye to eye on politics. And like families across the country, our family has had moments of disagreement over politics, candidates, and the upcoming presidential election. Like many people in similar situations among my family and friends, there were heated discussions at the dinner table, and sometimes things were said that I wanted to retract. But the biggest problem was that this rift would sometimes prevent us from speaking to each other for days or even weeks.
But this morning, as we come together as a family to pay our final respects to Julia, a member of the family who loved each of us unconditionally, we all realized that politics and cultural differences outweigh our differences. I realized something.
Julia knew what happens to a person without love in his heart. But she also knew from her post-adoption life that love heals the heart. In her world, all ugliness and division were washed away by the love of an eternal family. That is a lesson Julia taught my family and we will never forget.
After saying goodbye to Julia, I was on my way home from my parents’ house when the Beatles’ song “Let It Be” came on the radio.
This line stuck with me. “Even if they break up, they still have a chance to meet and have answers, so just let it be.”
Julia’s death is a reminder that what ultimately matters is what unites us. It doesn’t divide us.
As for us humans, maybe, just maybe, we can just leave things as they are.
Jason Villalba is the CEO of the Texas Hispanic Policy Foundation and a former member of the Texas House of Representatives.
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