This post is all about Jake. Jake was my dog for the last 10 years. He was a good dog, fiercely loyal to those he loved (and if we let you in the house he loved you), a fierce protector when he needed to be, and the sweetest dog ever. I will tell his story here, possibly for the last time. Many of you have heard at least part of this before. But I want to tell it once more, even the not so good parts at the end in tribute to an animal who absolutely deserves it. Hey, I eulogize people on this blog all the time so why not Jake?
Valerie and I adopted Jake from Stray Rescue the year we got engaged, and he lived with her until we got married (I had an ill tempered cat named Lemmy at the time, but that's a whole 'nother post). Anyway, Jake was rescued in Mississippi just after Hurricane Katrina. When they found him he had buckshot in his front right leg. This caused him to walk with a slight limp his entire life. Although up until this past year or so you wouldn't have noticed it unless you knew to look. He never let his injury stop him from playing, running, or going on walks through the neighborhood.
So here we have a dog who has been through a hurricane, been shot at (probably in the aftermath of the hurricane), and changed owners multiple times within the first year or two of his life. Some of those things left him mentally scarred as well as physically. Storms, fireworks and people with flashlights tended to make him nervous. By rights, Jake probably shouldn't have made it past puppyhood. But he did. And after all that he had a heart full of love to boot.
When he was younger Jake used to sit up on his hind legs. Not because it was a command or a ploy to get a treat, but because that's how he learned-he couldn't physically sit with his front paws on the floor for years. So naturally when we heard his story and he sat up like that, it was too cute and we loved him pretty much instantly. And so began Jake's journey into Brinkdom. Or something like that.
Like I said, he was a good dog. If you hung around for any amount of time you had a friend in Jake. He was always quite loving with family and friends. Jake protected his territory though. More than one door to door salesman and delivery person were intimidated by his "don't you dare come near my family!" bark. But once you were in, he'd be by your side for any petting or head scratching you may need to do, and doggie kisses were compliments of the house.
Jake loved to run and chase tennis balls in the yard, although getting him to give them back was sometimes an issue. I had to use two. Being part hound dog, walks were always a wonder and amazement to him-the world was full of interesting smells! If he didn't have that leash on he'd follow a scent for miles. And like most dogs Jake loved to eat!
No, scratch that. Jake lived to eat. That dog was a bottomless pit. He'd devour his food in a few gulps and then come take position under the table ready to pounce on any food that happened to be dropped on the floor. There was no "five second" rule in our house-Jake never let any food sit that long. And if you threw him a piece of popcorn or a pretzel he could always catch it-no matter how hard you tried to make the catch. Jake and I spent many late nights watching bad T.V. and sharing a snack this way. And once he knocked over and drank my bottle of Mackison's stout, which was annoying but did show good taste.
Now, Jake wasn't perfect. He could be quite destructive. If he felt he was being left alone too long he'd find something to destroy. Sometimes he'd eat diapers. Paper towels or left over Ziploc bags from the trash can would do nicely. Once he even ate an entire pair of Patterson's pajamas-except the snaps, of course. Jake was also not very smart. He never fully understood "no", and was just basically a bone head who never learned from his mistakes-or even remembered them. As frustrating as all this was, however, we never gave up on our boy or lost love for him. In hindsight it seems almost charming. Almost.
So how did this big furry mess get along with the children? Quite well, thank you. When Tessa was born I think he knew that he'd been partially replaced and that this new little thing was going to take up some of the attention and love that he'd been soaking in for so long. But he knew right away that it was his job to protect it and love it. Same with the twins, in fact when we brought them home he took one look at them, sniffed, shot me a look that said "Again? Didn't we already do this?...Fine.." and he loved them too. There was a lot of climbing on the dog, poking fingers where they shouldn't go and general, though innocent, mishandling of the dog from the children at first. And he did snap at them once or twice but mostly he just took it. Because he was a good dog.
And then Jake started to show his age. Two Springs ago I threw him his first tennis ball of the season, and he couldn't make the jump for it. It hurt his leg to do so. So we dropped that game, but he'd still chase rabbits and run with the kids so we didn't worry quite yet. But sometimes dogs age fast and deteriorate quicker than you'd like to admit.
He started sitting up again and taking that weight off of his paws. He began taking the stairs a little bit slower each month. His once black and tan muzzle was now turning white. We had to put Jake on pain meds to help with his leg. He was still pretty alert and active but things were beginning to slow down.
Fast forward to just a few months ago. Jake's limp became much more pronounced. He was sleeping longer and harder. He didn't always come right when you'd call anymore as it took effort. But he was still a happy dog...it's just that he was starting to have problems with his back too. He would occasionally yelp just because he was brushed up against. And many mornings Jake would yelp when he got up from sleeping all night.
Then on Sunday Jake awoke at 3 a.m. with a yelp that sounded more like a painful scream. He was on my side of the bed and I heard him clump over to Valerie's side, then a short time later down the hall towards the kid's rooms. Almostlike saying goodbye. When we got up at 5:30 Monday he was in the girls' room. He couldn't walk to us-all he could do was crawl with his hind legs. Valerie and I knew we were seeing the beginning of the end. If this was going to happen to Jake on anywhere near a regular basis, well, that would be unacceptable. He was a noble dog-not smart, but noble. He didn't deserve to go out as a decrepit old man, but rather with some dignity in him and while he was still our Jake.
So, decision made and vet on board I took him to the vet's office to do the right thing. He was able to walk slowly by that point but I had to lift him into and out of the car. Part of me thinks he knew something was going on, but I'm not sure. If you've ever had to put a dog down before you know how sad it is. Usually what happens is they are given one shot of sedative which makes the dog woozy, then one shot to make them unconscious, and the final shot to finish the job. It is heartbreaking but oddly peaceful.
But not this time. Not Jake. When the sedative hit his system and made him all woozy it freaked him out, and when Jake gets freaked out he begins to wheeze and cough. Which he did, and got a bunch of stuff caught in his throat, and began to choke. Only the sedative had weakened his system to the point that he couldn't clear his throat. So they gave him more sedative to try and calm him and give Jake the peaceful end he deserved. Didn't work, he kept on choking and hacking. So the last two shots were administered during this fit. He had only a few seconds of peace before the end.
That did not go as planned. I am 100% sure I did the right thing, but seeing him in that state as he lost consciousness was just too much. I felt guilty. It was just horrible, one of the most awful things I have ever seen. I sat in my car and cried like a school girl. I even begged God to take him in. I gave Jake a better life, but I felt like I failed him somehow in his final moments. It was brutal and I don't think I will ever forget it.
But you know what else I won't forget? How loving a companion Jake was. His goofy charm and heart full of love will be with me always. I take solace in the fact that there is no more hurt or pain. And if Pastor Jimmy is right and all dogs really do go to Heaven...well, I hope somebody up there's got a few tennis balls ready. 'Cause one day we're gonna have ourselves a big ol' game of catch.
Good dog, Jake. Good dog.
