Jack
April 6, 2003 – January 14, 2014
There
are no words I could write that would do Jack’s life justice. There are
no words to convey what he was to me. I want to try anyway, because he
was extraordinary in every way.
I was immediately drawn to
Jack’s eyes. Jack was a stunning blue merle aussie with one blue eye
and one parti eye. The coloring wasn’t what drew me to his eyes
though—it was the sparkle, the joie de vivre that was there until the
very end.
My husband and I always called him our “furry son”
for a reason—he felt like a son. Loyal and precious are words that
cannot even begin to describe him, but he also had a funny sense of
humor, and seemed to always know what was on my mind. We communicated
constantly without words, and he was excellent at anticipating my every
need. He never ceased to surprise me that way. One example is from only a
few months ago, when he was more mobile. The kids were going in and out
of the house, and it was driving me nuts. I looked at Jack, and I
muttered, “They’re driving me crazy!” Jack never hesitated, he looked
right in my eyes, glanced outside at the kids, and jumped up and turned
the deadbolt on the door! Then he sat down and looked me right in the
eyes again, clearly pleased with himself.
The kids. Boy,
did he adore my kids. Each of my kids joined our family when older—they
were each between 6 and 8, and each of them came from traumatic pasts.
Jack was there for them in every way imaginable –whether he was trying
to cheer them up by being a clown, getting them to play with them,
giving them hugs (yes, Jack would daily come up to us, when we were
sitting and put his paws around our necks, effectively hugging us) or
providing a shoulder to cry on. I don’t know how my kids would have made
it through the transitions and grief without him. As for Jack, he
always seemed his very happiest when he was being smothered by all 3 of
them at once.
Jack also left me with a gift—his dog. No,
Jack never had puppies, but I found one once in the Rio Grande—a
bedraggled little border collie/spaniel mutt. I said, “No way. No more
dogs.” But Jack took an instant liking to the pup, and claimed him as
his own. In the past couple weeks, Jack’s dog, Spencer, has been an
immense source of comfort as I’ve struggled to let go of my dearest
companion. Like I said, Jack was always anticipating my needs before I
knew what I needed.
My heart is still shattered into so many
pieces. We’ve lost dogs before, but this was the hardest—I
didn’t think it possible, but this loss may even be slightly more
difficult than the loss of Molly. Possibly because losing Molly was like
losing my closest female friend, and Molly was ready to go. Jack was
more like a son, and his eyes still sparkled with that joie de vivre. We
made so many memories together—and there were so many things I wanted
to experience with him yet.
Jack was one of the sweetest
blessings I’ve ever received from God. I don’t know why it was for only
10 ½ short years. I wish it didn’t hurt so much. But as my husband
reminded me the other day, it hurts so much because he provided us with
such immeasurable joy for more than a decade.