Darn you, Jack…
You have been a pain in the neck since the day I brought you home. Your love of eating everything – from socks, to shoes, to whatever you could sneak out of the trash basket … and even part of the tractor tire that was supposed to amuse you, not feed you …. kept us on our toes every waking minute for more than ten years. And some of the minutes when we should have been sleeping too.
Then there were the (expensive!) virtually indestructible chew toys you could reduce to bits and pieces within an hour of getting your huge puppy paws and teeth on them.
And the way you’d nearly wrench my arm out of the socket because you were excited about something in the yard, and since you preferred running, you tended to ‘walk me’ instead of the other way around.
I’m remembering so many things tonight. Like how you considered everyone in seeing distance a trespasser and would bark your head off at them until we brought you back inside. It didn’t matter that they were in their yard across the road, if you could see them, they were invading your territory.
I’m not even going to get started on your dislike of rain and any water that wasn’t in your dish. Or how the kids would have to drag and push you to go outside when it was wet. Or how they would have to do the same thing when it was bath time.
The roofers, the meter reader, the teenage girl riding her bike past our property … were all terrified of you. They didn’t know you just wanted to play. That you looked at everyone like a new friend. That the only thing they had to fear from you was a good face licking. Even the vet. I guess you didn’t know you were supposed to be afraid of them. Nope. You greeted everyone who worked there like a long lost buddy.
You loved everybody.
My mind is all over the place right now, bouncing from one memory to another. I didn’t have any trouble writing about Shadow, Jasper, Sam, and Sophie. Yeah, they each took a piece of my heart with them when they died but you… You took the biggest piece with you today, Jack.
Three more weeks, to the day, and we’d have celebrated your eleventh birthday. In human years, you were almost seventy-seven. I suppose that’s a nice age, but it wasn’t old enough. Not nearly old enough.
Yeah. You were a pain sometimes. But I’m going to miss you forever.