A Story of Love

I will tell you about this silly little dog, with stubby legs and the softest muzzle you’ve ever felt. Enough sass to even give me a run for my money. For such a sweet dog, Jack was a master of the side-eye. You always got the feeling that he knew more than he let on. An inside joke between him and himself. 

His ears and front paws were like stroking velvet. He tolerated the paw-stroking barely, and the ear-stroking always. When an especially good spot was found, he would tilt his head (on the side of whichever ear was receiving attention), and lean into your hand with a sigh. Sometimes I rubbed both ears at once to see what he would do. His head would droop and he would simply melt.

Jack was a street dog for the first few years of his life, but didn’t let his previous record of foraging keep him from reaching his dreams of being a picky eater. Beef was okay, liver was preferred. He liked cheese for a while, then decided the love affair was over. His favorite thing was chicken. If it was leftovers from a meal, he would trip over himself in his eagerness to get a taste.

He frequently launched from the third step from the bottom of the stairs, with no regard for his own safety. He once got loose at my grandparents’ farm and was only caught when he made the mistake of going into tall grass, which slowed him down greatly.

As I said, he had stubby legs. 

He had so much energy that, were it converted into power, it could light up a whole city. His face, ears, and legs turned gray. He didn’t care. He kept going. Until he couldn’t. 

Dogs shouldn’t get sick. Or suffer. They are nothing but joy. Pure light wrapped in fur and tail wags. I envy them for their simple goodness. 

Maybe I’m a little lost right now. Realizing there won’t be morning zoomies. Stolen blankets. Sneezing in my face when I lean in to kiss a wrinkled nose. 

It was the correct thing. Jack gave so much love. He received every bit of it back, until in the end, the only gift left to give him was mercy.


  • Carter Moody

    Sara, I’m really really sorry to read about your dog. Yes, they are family members, about the only ones that love unconditionally. After I moved three years ago, my sister’s beagle became ultra-attached to me. It’s a good thing. My long-lived British Blue cat had died of old age complications (and bad veterinary “care” until a good one finally discovered the problem, too late). So while I still don’t have a furry one in bed or on my chest right now, the little energetic beagle flies down the stairs to see me, get a treat (usually thawed green beans in a bit of water), and then to snooze, sleep, hang out watching me. I take her on walks, bathe her (since my sister’s knee replacement), and we’ve learned to communicate quite a bit.

    All those things I know you are missing. And yet, they’re always there in your heard and memory.

    With sympathy, Carter

  • Rob

    My sincerest condolences Sara. Jack seemed like the sweetest pup ever and I know how much he meant to you. I know this won’t be easy but I am thankful you have the memories and he is resting peacefully. Always here for you.

    • Emily San

      I’m so very sorry for your loss my friend. Jack was such a sweet boy and he will always be with you ❤️

  • Lucky Number Eleven

    Sara, I’m truly sorry you lost a friend. The pain reminds us just how good the good was. One day you will think of him with only a smile. No tears.

    And he’ll be out there somewhere jumping off the third stair, chasing after nothing, getting lost in the tall grass, but always finding his way home by the smell of dinner cooking. Chicken. His favorite.

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