Rest In Peace, Jackey Boy

Jackey Boy. Black Jack. Jack Attack. Jack.

“Yack” was Abi’s first word after “da-da.” “Dog” was Madi’s first word after “da-da.” (Is everyone noticing where I fit into this equation!?) He was Adam’s little buddy. And he will be missed. Yesterday he jumped our fence for the 568^th time and was hit by a car. A police officer got Adam’s number off of his tag and called him to give him the bad news.  Thus ruining his lunch and the rest of the day.

If you know me, you know I’m not an animal lover. On my best day, I’m an animal liker. Most days I’m an animal tolerater. In a world full of vegans, dog Halloween costumes and pet health insurance, I realize I am the stark minority. So please don’t be offended, I’ve just never really bonded the smelly, hairy animal kingdom.  Most days Jack drove me flippin nuts. All that being said, I can’t believe how sad I am that’s he’s gone.

The day we got Jack

Jack’s adventures are legendary among our friends and family. I could write a book about all the ridiculous stunts he’s pulled during the six years we had him. All that dog wanted to do was run and be free. It didn’t matter how often we walked him or let him run around at Adam’s parents’ house. All he wanted to do was get out of our fenced in yard and run around the neighborhood. Yes, even after he was neutered. He could chew through cables and ropes and harnesses. Which he did at a campsite once. And when he was walking around our tent in the middle of the night I thought it was a coyote and almost peed my pants. He could dig under fences. Which he has done more times than I can count. He did it at our house once and got animal control called on himself. Two days and almost $200 later we shamefully picked him up. With me swearing we were getting rid of that freaking dog. He dug out of the fence at my mom’s once and was gone for days. We thought he was gone for good. Until a police officer called Adam on his first teacher day to inform him that “his canine” was stuck out on a dam and animal control was picking him up. So a very pregnant me drove down to Animal Control (again) to be informed that he was actually at the Humane Society. So then I drove across town to the Humane Society where they informed me that Jack had swam out to a dam in the middle of a lake (9 miles from home!!!) and had gotten stuck. There were two police cars, a fire truck and animal control all there to rescue him. Brother. I swore to Adam (again) that we were getting rid of that #$@% dog. Two months ago Jack learned to jump fences. Making it impossible to contain his wild spirit. He would jump our fence the first chance he got. It took us weeks to figure out how he was getting out. Meanwhile, he was running loose in our neighborhood at least once a day. Where I am quite sure we are now the “redneck neighbors who don’t take care of their dog.” And I told Adam (again) we are absolutely, 100% getting rid of this dog. We asked several people to take him. Just until we moved out into the country where we can run as much as he wants. No takers. Shocker. Then much to my unending dismay, Jack had to become an inside dog. We had no choice. I hated it. I hated the hair. I hated the smell. I hated having to revolve our lives around letting him out. And still, almost every time I let him out to pee, he would jump that God forsaken fence. By this time I was sure our neighbors were going to start a petition to get us evicted from the neighborhood. He got animal control called on himself (again). This time I told Adam, ‘If you want him back, go get him yourself. Because as far as I’m concerned, he can stay there.’ Three days later, after Adam realized I was serious, he went down to Animal Control (again) and picked him up. I said (again) we HAVE to get rid of this dog. It is, quite obviously, not working. And then yesterday, our worst fear happened.

Yes, we wanted someone to take him. Somewhere where we could take the girls to visit him. They love him so much. It’s the only reason we kept him as long as we did. We always thought someday we would take him back when he could be happy with lots of room to run.

This is, by far, the saddest thing that happened to Abi in her short three years. This is the first truly sad thing we’ve ever had to explain. And it was awful. How do you explain to a three-year old that her friend isn’t coming back? How do we explain death and heaven when we don’t even understand it completely as adults? We considered telling her he just ran away. But I really didn’t want to lie to her. Sometimes life is sad. And I want her to know that it’s ok to be sad when sad things happen. Someday, someone she knows will pass away and that will be much, much sadder. If we start the conversation now, she will have a frame of reference to help her deal with the grief that is an inevitable part of life. Plus, what will she think when she finds out later that we lied to her about something this important? So we told her that something sad happened to Jack. That he was playing in the road (a little reinforcement of traffic safety) and was hit by a car. That he was hurt really bad and that he died. And that when you die, it means you can’t come back. That we were very sad and we would miss Jack very much.

Part of the conversation went something like this:

Adam: Jack was hurt really bad.

Abi: Is he broken?

Adam: Yes, kind of.

Abi: Is he broken in pieces?

Adam: um…yes.

Abi: Can you fix him, Daddy?

Adam: No sweetie, I can’t. I wish I could.

Abi: But Daddy, you’re big and strong, you can fix him.

Me: Daddy doesn’t know how to fix dogs. Neither does Mommy. After dogs die, they go to heaven. And now Jack is with Jesus. And he’s happy because now he isn’t hurt anymore.

Abi: Did God fix Jack?

Adam: Yes, he did. But now he has to stay in heaven and he can’t come back. We will really miss Jack, won’t we?

I want to remember this sweet little conversation with her. It is such a difficult thing to understand. And even harder to explain. I know she doesn’t really get it. She asked a few times when he is coming back. The older she gets, the more I worry about saying the right things and not “screwing her up.” I know this is probably the first of many difficult conversations we’ll have to have with our kids. I just have to pray that God will guide our words and thoughts.

 


After we told Abi about Jack we all drew pictures of him and talked about what a good dog he was.
This is Abi's picture.

 Rest in peace, Jack. You were a good dog when it came down to it. We all loved you and will miss you. I'm sure you are in heaven just like we told Abi. Where I am quite sure you are already driving St. Peter crazy by jumping over the pearly gate.