Remembering A Friend
I lost a friend the other day, Jack, one of my clients, lost his battle with cancer Friday at the age of six.
I nicknamed him the “devil dog”, not because he was a bad sort, but rather because of his devilish, mischievous sense of humor and adventure. Never one to let an open door go to waste, once he ambled outside after I’d made the mistake of opening the sliding glass door. A game of tag ensued with my saving grace being Jack’s need for a potty break.
Another day I arrived for our regular walk and he’d managed to push the gate aside to make his way into forbidden territory in another part of the apartment. When I arrived he was attempting to get back to his appointed place, head down, sad look on his face at having been caught.
Jack was the adventuresome type, never deterred by circumstances like extreme weather. Many were the times we’d walk in near zero temperatures, many inches of snow on the ground. He liked “snow cones” and would inevitably be wearing a sprinkling of white on his black muzzle.
A very social dog, Jack never met a person or dog he didn’t greet with his friendly manner. He had many dog friends in the apartment complex where he lived. Although he considered dogs and people friends, squirrels were a different matter, many was the time he would attempt to hunt one that crossed his path.
He was quite a ham, before I took the picture that accompanies this post, I told him to smile and he did, allowing me to capture him at his most charming.
In the Pearl Jam song Just Breath there is a line, “Yes I understand that every life must end”. Although it’s something we know, it doesn’t make the loss easier.
Take care, Jack, you will be missed very much.