29/10/2025
Tuesday Morning, Jango Had a major neurological event (stroke, seizure, vestibular).
The phone rang while I was making food. Jim’s ringtone. He rarely calls during work hours. "Something happened to our buddy. He can't stand up."
The old me would have panicked. Today, emotions flowed. We sat in silence on the phone, listening to our heart. Through the tears, I felt peace beneath the pain. A message from Jango. ‘Bring me home.’
When Jim arrived, I heard the door close then a strange scuffling noise. A stumbling Jango turned the corner—smiling.
We sat on the floor together, and Jango did something he rarely does: seek snuggly affection. He came and sat beside me, nuzzling to move my arm around him and hold him close. We just stayed there.
The world stopped.
We took him outside to lay in the grass while we talked about what to do next. He wanted to walk, so we did. The three of us together. He stumbled and he fell. With every tumble, he got a bit stronger. Like Keyser Söze in The Usual Suspects, he shifted back to walking without falling. He even scared a rabbit out of hiding then followed the scent trail, grinning the whole time, head bobble and all.
After a nap, he was back outside attempting to play with Zorii—stumbling, falling, grinning. He searched for tomatoes, sniffed herbs, and ate grass between falls. Fully present in each moment.
That's when it hit me.
I was the one seeing symptoms dominated by his trauma and judging them. I saw the head ticks, the eyes rolling about, the stumbling. But Jango? He was living his best day in the best way he could in the moment. His mind was on the present, not stuck in the trauma.
He wasn't thinking "I wish my legs worked" or "my body is failing me." He was just being Jango—taking it all in, moment by moment, with zero regret or shame.
This twelve-year-old Aussie taught me more about living than any book ever could in one profound afternoon.
While I worried about what was next for him, he showed me what it means to be fully alive—right now, exactly as you are.
Thanks, J-Bird. You are, will be, and always have been super special.
Read the full story on Substack (link in comments) where I share what happened next and the aromatic that calmed us all.