Remembering Jack

Our wonderful boxer Jack, passed away on Tuesday November 24th shortly after 10:30am. It was a difficult day for Mark and I, he was our beloved puppy, but we knew the time had come to say goodbye. I'm still struggling to find that elusive sense of closure (I hate the term, but don't know what else to call it), of having made the right decision, even though my brain knows we did. My heart won't let me accept the reasoning offered up by my mind. I guess I have to trust in the passage of time to help ease the sadness.

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I found Jack on the internet when we were living in Ottawa. I saw his picture on petfinder.com a couple of months after Mark and I got married and immediately emailed his picture to Mark, asking, "Can we get him?!"
He was a year and a half, living in a dog shelter in Northern Quebec. His owners decided that having three boxers was too much, so the youngest one had to go. Luckily for him and for us, my heartfelt plea to the shelter meant that we would become his new parents. They arranged to drop him off at a halfway point between their northerly location and Toronto where they were taking other rescued dogs to new homes. And this is where I look back with gratitude, because my cautious husband, who had never owned a pet before, took a huge leap of faith. The arrangements were that we would pick Jack up at 9pm at a truck stop outside of Montreal. We would have to hand over about $300 in cash to a stranger and he would in turn hand over a dog we had never met before. Um....even I can see it was a weird situation, and I'm usually oblivious to these things.

On the arranged night we drove the two hours to Montreal in excitement, wondering about our new dog and our new life with him. We waited patiently at the truck stop and went over what the shelter had told us thus far about Jack. They'd said he was good with people and other dogs, didn't like cats too much and was also going to need some TLC because he seemed a bit depressed in the shelter. He's lost some weight, they said. When the pickup truck with the trailer finally pulled in two hours later, we were pretty excited. But when our ghostly-white boxer finally jumped out of the truck, we were shocked into silence. Lost some weight? He was a skeleton. You could see every rib, every vertebrae. His hip bones stuck out painfully on either side. I think we both gasped at the sight of him. But he did a boxer wiggle for us to let us know he was okay, and we quickly scooped him up into the backseat of the car and took him home to fatten him up. And we never looked back.

This is Jack lying on the bed Mark made for him on his first night home. Its a bit blurry, but can you see his spine sticking out? So thin, so wary, so desperate to be loved and safe.

It didn't take long for him to settle in once he was home. I think within a couple of weeks he realised he was here to stay and started packing on the pounds (at his heaviest, he was 80 lbs, thanks to peanut butter Kong treats and too many leftovers). He quickly wiggled his way into the hearts of our family and friends.

With his Auntie Karen

With Mark and our good friend Paul, who famously tried to be a really good friend and scoop up Jack's poop, only to discover there was a hole in the bag...
With Grandpa Bill, who always had some leftovers for Jack, especially at Christmas.

He was most definitely what we thought of as our first child. This was the beginning of our little family.
Jackie was a beautiful dog, but really tall for a boxer, and the white fur was unusual enough that it either made people think he was gorgeous and rush over to say hello, or cross the street in fear of him. Personally, I thought he was a stunner - when he was out for a walk he would hold himself so proudly...there's nothing like a boxer stance to make me smile.

Jack was a great dog who only ever wanted a cuddle. And maybe some cheese. Or a yoghurt pot.

He was incredibly loyal, and loved us deeply at our best and even at our worst.

When Jack was having fun, you were having fun because his happiness was infectious.

We were lucky that Jack was so good with the kids - he basically ignored them, no matter what they were up to.

But I think he secretly adored them.

Jack was definitely at his happiest at the cottage, and that is how I'm going to choose to remember him. Running like hell up the hill in winter, head low, tongue lolling out, legs going like mad as he tore through the snow or the dirt, depending on the seasons. He would end each day at the cottage happily exhausted from all the fresh air and tearing around. In the winter, you'd find him passed out on his side in front of the fire, turning a lovely shade of pink has he warmed his belly. In the summer he was happiest on the back deck, on his side, turning a lovely shade of pink as the sun warmed his belly.

I love that dog and I'm so angry with myself for not loving him more, for telling myself since he got sick that my life would be easier once he was gone, that three kids was enough, I didn't need a dog too. Because my life isn't any easier. Its just lonelier. He's left such a silence, such an empty space. We miss you Jackie, very much.

I have to try to end this on a happy note, because otherwise I'll just cry every time I read this post. So here's Jack at the cottage a few winters ago, having fun in the snow. Good boy!