Today is a very, very sad day. Our dearly loved family dog Jack passed away early this morning after surgery on Wednesday. He was one-of-a-kind and loved by every single person who met him, whether or not they considered themselves "dog people."
Jack came into our lives nearly nine years ago when my ex-boyfriend's family adopted him and realized that they were not actually ready for the burst of energy that was puppy Jack. He had boundless energy and would visit my parents' house often, spending hours chasing deer into the woods and coming back covered in dirt and deer poop. Somehow I convinced my parents to take Jack in and, right away, he stole our hearts. Jack was the sweetest, kindest, happiest and smartest dog any of us have ever known. We never knew what combination of breeds came together to create the most-perfect-mutt and spent hours guessing as we watched the Westminster Dog Show every Thanksgiving, pointing at dog after dog and exclaiming "Maybe Jack is part that!"
Whatever Jack was, he was perfect. His spotted coat, his propeller of a tail, the way he nuzzled his head into your lap affectionately or leaned against you when he wanted attention. The way he sat at the front door surveying the scene, keeping watch over his kingdom. His patience with our other dog, Chloe, nipping at his ears and growling lovingly when he came in the door. The way he would sneak into rooms he wasn't meant to be in - the living room and guest room - just so that he could peer out the windows or curl up on a cozy rug.
One of my favorite memories of Jack was when we took him camping with us on the Delaware River. I will never forget him, sitting in the canoe as we rowed down the river and bounding along shore with glee. But no matter how excited he got or how many deer he chased, he never left our sides. He always came back to camp, back to the canoe, wanting to be together, back home.