One of our dogs left us last week. I picked up his ashes yesterday, accompanied by a pawprint that they made for us that says "Jackson" on it. It's almost a week later. I've been struggling with what I want to say about it, and who I might say it to. I really don't want to tell it to anyone... the thought of posting it on something like facebook is appalling to me. But... I want to somehow leave something somewhere that someone might find so that they could know about Jackson. I would like to memorialize him. I guess we could have a wake for him... and maybe we will, but for the moment... I kind of just want to be alone with my thoughts. I guess that's what blogs are for... being alone with your thoughts in a public forum.
When I carried Jack out to the Vet's car... he was the softest I'd ever felt... and the smallest. I asked for that last option to be with him. To carry him to their car. All 69 pounds of him. If I had tried that when he was alive, he'd be pissed off. Recently passed... I hope that he cherished it as much as I did. That's what has stuck with me the most... how small and how soft. How small and how soft. Sigh... I'm at work and my eyes are hurting from the tears that are trying to come out. This might be something I finish over time.
I met Tracie partly because of Jackson. Tracie lived in Bethel, and she was interesting because she lived far away from me, was an intriguing person, and she had a quirky picture of Jack. Something about how his ears were cocked. He looked like a good dog. Someone with a dog like that must be a good person.
As he fell asleep in our living room for the last time... his ear stayed up. Tracie touched it and commented on that.
Tracie and I met, and it wound up that she was moving into Anchorage in a few months. Eventually I got to meet Jackson in person. I think he looked a bit like Alf. Tracie would never agree, but most people agreed with me when they saw him... if they didn't even confirm it independently. He also had a real personality, not so sarcastic as Alf though... and I don't think that Jack ever ate a Cat.
Tracie and I dated, with our pets (Jackson, Mason the dog and Asia the cat) a part of our integrated lives. We married on December 29, 2007. The site for our wedding was Otis Lake, about half a block from our house. When we got the walkie talkie call that all was ready, we walked with Mason and Jackson from our house and down to the lake. Mason had Tracie's ring tied around his neck, and Jackson had my ring. (Asia wasn't invited.). The dogs were funny. Mason kind of flopped down on the ice, and Jackson sat there politely (mostly) facing the wrong way. They were our ringbearers... and I guess since no one was there to give Tracie away, Jackson did double-duty on that task.
He was almost thirteen years old. Tracie got him eleven years ago. If you look at it right, he did get an extra year. Last year he had a pretty bad cancerous growth on his back. The prognosis wasn't very good for it, but we had the vets take out a big chunk of him... and it didn't come back... at least there.
Jackson really liked to have his legs rubbed. I felt the lump on his left leg the week before he left us. Tracie took him into the vet at 3:00 on Wednesday. He had cancer in his bone that had reduced much of it to sponge. The vet was surprised that he hadn't broken his bone already. She warned us that it could happen in the next few days, or the next week or two. It would be excruciating when it did happen. I got home at 6:00... Tracie hadn't been home long. We talked. We cried. We hurt.
All dogs like their schedules I think. Jackson loved breakfast, with being let outside afterwards. He loved his dinner, ideally with a walk afterwards. Sometimes we're good, sometimes we're not. That night we took him for a walk with Mason, and his limping took on a new significance in our minds.
Jack had been getting older. Other than last year's cancer, he'd had some bladder problems where he hadn't been able to hold it in the house. He also had some instances where he pooped in the house. We couldn't help but laugh at those rare instances, recognizing that things happen when you get older... and because we'd seen the episode of "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia" where Danny DeVito left poops for the heck of it. It's not as gross as it sounds. The bladder problems subsided, and the poops mostly. On our walks, he did still kind of poop in the middle of his walking. Wherever, just stop and poop. None of his previous signs of, "I think I'll poop here... sniff... sniff... yep, this is a good spot.". Just... here it comes.
But... age and what it brings can be easy to live with when it's not about pain and misery. He was a happy dog and brought much of the same to us. I can say I've never been around a dog with so much character. I know that we anthropomorphize... but... he had a personality. A dog's personality, but one nonetheless.
My mom and the vet were right. Jackson did quietly fall asleep. I was scratching his ears (one of his favourite things), and his eyes got droopy and his head slowly fell to the floor. We cleared a spot in the middle of our living room, and had him on his dog bed. I had his head, scratching his ears, and Tracie was to my left... also petting him. The vet and her tech were fantastic people. The tech shared that she had lost her dog in the past year, and she was crying. What a hard thing to do for someone. To come into another person's house to take away an important and cherished part of their lives. The vet did tear up as well. Sigh... I'll come back to this later.
(a few weeks later)
Four weeks ago today. It's much easier of course, but there's always a space in our house where Jack should be. Lying in a corner of the kitchen when we're working in there. We eventually gave up on ordering him "out of the kitchen". Lying on the floor in front of us when we were on the couch. Less frequently on his dog bed upstairs (choosing to be closer to us). This space where Jack should be always moves around... generally someplace close to us. If you think about it right, this space could be Jack. It's just not him physically. It doesn't matter, he's still there.
One of the things we notice is the lack of noise. Jack was a vocal dog... barks, a lot of groans... and burps. He burped and blew. He had stinky Jack breath. With his groans, you could tell when he lay down. He'd slowly get down, accompanied by deep groans. For some reason, he got to have two beds in our bedroom. One on each side of the bed. It seemed he would fall asleep on one side, and then sometime in the night move to the other. I'd sometimes hear him move over, and moan as he lay back down.
The container with his ashes is on our windowsill in our bedroom. We booked a ticket to go down to Tracie's home in Oregon, and we'll be taking him along. Her family has a beach house and Jackson used to chase the seagulls on the shore there. Tracie feels it's a nice spot. It's also a place where he'll get to be with family. Walking on the beach is always on the list of what to do at the house there.
I don't think I have much more to say... other than if I let myself think about it... I really miss him. I always called him "your dog" when I talked with Tracie... but, he was my dog too.
Oh... when Tracie adopted him, his name was Jackie Jackson Terrence... she kept it.
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Today is two months... and we still find the holes in our lives that Jack occupied (and still occupies). It's still a bit weird in our house without him, but time does indeed take the edges off the sharpness of feeling... but, the feeling is there still. Just softer.
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Four years later and we still find the Jackson-shaped hole in our lives. He still roams through the house and revisits us with memories like his groans, burping and blowing and how soft his fur was. We are better for knowing him, but it would be nice to be with him in person.
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