Jack’s still here
February 26, 2014 by William K. Wolfrum
Jack’s still here. More than 14 years since my wife picked him out, the shivering runt of the litter, in Evansville, Indiana. Since then Jack has lived in California and in Brazil. Jack is a dog well traveled.
I’m writing of Jack to stop the trend of feeling I need to write about my dogs when they die. I’ve done it before for Max and Duchess. I don’t want to do that any more. Especially for Jack. Because Jack is to be remembered for living.
I met Jack when he was two, and would joke with my wife that he would either lead a long life or die in some horrible way. Because Jack loves all people. But hates all other dogs. And isn’t all that fond of the limitations put on living things by physics. Jack – a Boston Terrier – has tried to attack two full-grown Great Danes. He fought Duchess – an Australian Shepherd twice his size – several times. Since he was about the age of five, Jack has been cut off from all other dogs.
Mind you, while Jack seeks to dominate all other dogs, his love of all humans and obedience is utterly pure. As my wife has said, Jack loves her, me, and then all other humans are tied for third. He has always been over-the-moon happy when around people and when receiving attention.
Jack was also blessed with unbelievable athleticism. In his prime he could jump over anything and run faster than the wind. His youth was spent in a jump with no clear plan of where he’d land.
Jack has always been our special dog. He’s not the sharpest of blades. This was even more noticeable when he was growing up with Max, who was an exceedingly intelligent little dog. Jack took years to house train. He destroyed three couches. He had energy enough to fuel six dogs. He was shockingly strong. And he was joyful in his madness.
And Jack’s still here, and acting like he wants to stick around awhile yet. Age has affected him as it must affect us all. Cataracts have taken most of his site, rendering his athleticism dormant. His hearing is shot. His sense of smell isn’t so great, either. He’s by no means decrepit, however. He still has a shocking amount of energy and will spend hours walking around the house, following whoever happens by him.
Jack’s life is one of shadows and routine now. He wakes up at the same time daily. He naps in the sun until he’s blazing hot, something he’s always loved. He enjoys his naps and comforts. He remains strong. Life has given him more savvy. He remains fearless. He is blissfully unaware that life has given him any disadvantages.
I’m petting Jack now. He’s happy and nappy and enjoying his life. And my wife and I are thrilled that Jack’s still here.