Jack 
1989 - 11/6/2000

I used to tease Nancy that it had taken hours of secret training to teach Jack to dig up her tomato plants. 

Jack's first job was to bring smiles and laughter where there were tears.  Jack was meant to be part of the family. He made Cindy's last years a joy -- I can still picture Jack tearing across the front yard ferociously barking at something and Cindy, miles behind in collected canter (her top speed), barking at the unseen trespasser because she trusted Jack. 

I was sitting in the navy chair in the living room missing Chet and suddenly realized the house was too quiet. Where was Jack? I swiveled the chair to find that Jack had been busily bringing me one by one the Kleenex tissues from the box on the coffee table in the back room and had assembled a big pile for me behind the recliner.  Who wouldn't smile as he joyfully fetched another Kleenex tail wagging in delight. 

At one point, we had kiddie gates at each end of the kitchen as Jack was too much to have in the kitchen when I was cooking. I'd close one gate and he'd race through the office and living room hoping to beat me to the second gate. When I won, he'd lay down at the gate, looking like a prisoner in jail and wail while I cooked. 

Jack had to go outside in the middle of the night and when he came back in, began to noisily chew (on a rawhide chew bone - I thought). Something didn't sound right, so I raised up but could see him chewing something white - rawhide is white. I laid back down but still felt something wasn't right. I turned on the light to discover Jack was chewing on the flap on the La-Z-Boy recliner chair -- and the "something white" was the stiffening. There was no "fix" except to cut the flap off and be sure to never run out of chew bones for Jack. The chair was destroyed in the fire several months later so I never had to find a way to fix it. Chairs could be replaced, Jack couldn't. 

Jack was my protector and took his job seriously. He never actually bit anyone, but he did grab several workers and let them know not to mess with his mom. His ferocious bark kept most at bay. Even friends were not immune if Jack thought I was in danger.  We were putting the shelves in the supply cabinet in the copier room when a box of plastic paper clips fell startling Debby who let out a yell of surprise.  Jack appeared from nowhere and grabbed Greg by the thigh.  Jack didn't actually bite down, but sure let Greg know don't mess with my mom. 

Jack stuck to me like velcro -- riding in the front passenger seat in the Bronco, keeping my seat warm when I left him in the car, having several favorite places to sleep in the office, bedroom, living room -- following me as I moved through the house. 

Jack, Cindy and I rode out the tornado in the bathroom closet. After that, we were all frightened by storms --- Jack seemed to become more frightened as he got older. It was the only time he would get into my bed. I didn't need a weather alert radio, the first hint of lightening and Jack would be pawing me awake.  

After Cindy died, Jack mourned with me. I didn't realize how much he missed her. I'm sure that Cindy sent us Lady who has a few of Cindy's special mannerisms -- both Cindy and Lady can make their tails "helicopter" in a complete circle, Jack could only wag; Cindy and Lady both "pogo" - jump up and down in place when it's time to "go" in the car. Lady didn't replace Cindy, but found room in our hearts. 

Recently, Jack decided that a neighbor's white cement cocker spaniel yard ornament required him leaping from the passenger seat to bark at it out the back window.  I always smiled at his aerial act when we passed the cement spaniel.  He only barked at it when we drove past headed south.

After Jack was diagnosed with inoperable cancer this past Spring, the vet urged us to enjoy the time we had left. We did.  Each morning after feeding Tiz, I'd have coffee and read the paper with Jack on the back patio.  We'd "go" in the Bronco and frequently stop for ice cream -- two small vanilla, please, in cups without lids and keep the change.  The drive in window at the bank was a favorite dog biscuit source.  We'd split a foot-long coney & tater tots with a Sonic butterfinger blast. Jack always rode shotgun while Lady bounced from left to right window in the back seat.  She still considers the passenger seat to be Jack's.

Brunch and dinner were always to be followed by a dog biscuit (or two or three) from the cookie drawer and then a chew bone.  If I somehow "forgot", Jack would insistently nudge and then lead me to his cookie drawer.  

Jack faced life full speed ahead.  When I came home from Sydney, it was a delight to watch him playfully chase Lady round and round the back yard.  When I left for Schumacher's clinic, Jack had had a bad weekend.  I tearfully called the vet telling them to do what was best for Jack if they had to.  Driving home from the airport, I didn't know if Jack would still be home.  I cried with joy when I saw both dogs in the window.  Jack refused dog food, but devoured all the special prime rib, sauteed chicken livers, and ground beef.  

Jack is buried with his favorite toy right outside my office window beside his first love, Cindy.  

Although Lady is the noisy tom-boy who snores like a freight train, can set off the glass breakage detector with her high "C" bark when arguing over a chew bone, and Jack was very quiet, the house seems empty and silent without him.  I understand "The Sound of Silence". 

Michael Matson wrote "The Lord gave Jack to you as a friend and teacher knowing that you would love and care for him. Now in the
name of that love it is time for him to go back home."

I know Jack waits at the Rainbow Bridge with Diala, Cindy and Chet. Jack taught me to live life "full speed ahead", to protect your friends, to enjoy fine meals, and to laugh.  

He was loved and appreciated all of his days.  He leaves an empty spot in our hearts. 

More Jack antics including Cat in the Hat, Noooo...., Jack the Greeter, and I'm Not Doing Anything, Honest, Mom.