Young At Heart 
`it Wasn't Like It Was A Job' 
Andy Stetz, Who Is In His Early 70s (but Wouldn't Be Specific), Has Spent Most 
Of His Life In The Family Business, John B. Stetz Men's Clothing Store On 
South Main Street In Wilkes-barre.

24-hour Child Care Set To Help Homeless 
Additional Programs 
Will Help Families With 
Housing And Schooling For 
Their Children

Monday, December 28, 1998 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Page: 4A 





Man finds truth, love, solace in ode to dog &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Canine remembered as a truly best friend &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; They will not go quietly, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 the dogs who have shared our livesIn subtle ways they let us know their
spirit still survives. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Old habits still makes us think we hear their bark at the door, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Or step back when we drop a tasty morsel on the floor. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 My feet still go around the place the food dish used to be, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 And sometimes coming home at night you miss them terribly. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Although time may bring new friends and a new food dish to fill, &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 that one place in our hearts belongs to them ... &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 and always will. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 By JEAN LACOE &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Times Leader Staff Writer &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 PLAINS TWP.- Ed Jasonis has climbed this hill, bright with fall sun and
dotted with monuments and clumps of flowers, every day for more than a year to
visit his beloved dog, Kerra. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "This one," he says, pointing to Kerra's headstone, "was a godsend. She
filled a vacuum when my wife died." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The German shepherd-husky mix was buried at the Luzerne County SPCA in July
1997. Since then, the 72-year-old World War II veteran has regularly recited
to Kerra the poem accompanying this story. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The poem, by Linda Barnes, was originally written with a cat in mind. But
Jasonis adapted it to fit his loss when Kerra died. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 His eyes shiny and his smile easy, Jasonis doesn't come to the cemetery to
openly mourn Kerra. He seems more like a friendly caretaker than a man paying
respects to a beloved friend. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He talks to Kerra, tends to her grave- marked by a headstone with an
engraving of a dog, her name and "1981-1997"- and putters around the cemetery.
He's continuing work begun by another grieving pet owner, building a crooked
stone wall that nearly spans the cemetery edge at the top a gradual slope.
It's constructed with the smooth tan and gray rocks pulled from the ground
each time another pet is laid to rest. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Jasonis and Kerra lived in the Heights section of Wilkes-Barre. He tells
stories about trips to the Coal Street park, where she would chase woodchucks.
Everyone liked Kerra- even the groomer who tied a red bow on her. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "She had human traits," he said with a smile. "She loved that bow. She'd
walk around and show everybody." &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Jasonis was a soldier in the 1944 D-Day invasion of Europe. He visited
France in 1994 for the 50th anniversary and received a medal from the French
government. His wife, Gwen, was an English girl he met during the war and was
married to for 34 years until her death in 1982. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "Her mother died and her sister died and she lost the will to live," he
said. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Jasonis, however, has not lost the will to live. He picks mushrooms and
berries and gardens. "I give most of it away," he said. He cuts "old people's"
lawns for free. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He describes himself as an "ardent fisherman," preferring local waters and
Lake Wallenpaupack. When asked about his biggest catch, Jasonis pulls out his
wallet and shows off two pictures of him grinning and holding huge fish. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He's slowing down a bit, he says, because he's starting to notice more
aches and pains. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "But every day and every year is different," he said. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He still visits his wife's grave every week. When she died, he visited
daily for seven years. When he was in the hospital for hernia surgery, his
daughter would sneak him out for a visit. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 "After seven years, I let her go. She let me go too. It will be the same
way with Kerra, too," he said. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He tells the story of Kerra's death like it happened yesterday. At the end,
Kerra lifted her head and placed it on Jasonis' foot and died. The story
brings tears to Jasonis' eye

Man Finds Truth, Love, Solace In Ode To Dog Canine Remembered As A Truly Best Friend They Will Not Go Quietly, The Dogs Who Have Shared Our Lives.