Goodbye, Jack:
Long May You Run

I write this through a lot of tears and a few smiles. Jackson has been taken from us though he will forever live in our hearts. If you ever owned a pet (or had a pet own you), you know how Fenton and I feel. He was not a pet so much as he was a member of the family. I started this entire webpage because of Jackson and Hugo and then it diversified and took on a life of its own.

I remember the first time I saw Jackson; he was just a little chocolate brown ball of fur. Hugo, as always, was more friendly. People liked Hugo better because he was outgoing and demonstrative. Jackson was more reserved. He took your measure before he decided if you were worth his attention. Fenton always said Jackson was a loyal, little dog. I do not know if dogs are loyal in the way we understand loyalty, but I knew what she meant. Hugo would go with whomever bent over to pet him. Not Jackson.

He was a guy's dog, even though he was a little poodle. Maybe it was because he bonded with his breeder, a big biker type with tattoos (as much as I loved him, however, I drew the line at getting tattoos so he would feel at home). He loved Fenton, his mama. But otherwise, he liked to hang out with Russell, Craig, and me. He instantly took to Russell. I got to keep him for a week once by myself to test his allergies. He was such a good boy that week. He never barked or fussed. It was so great to come home to him.

In the evenings, after Fenton went to bed with Hugo following closely, Jackson would sit up with me and watch SportsCenter and Letterman.

I remember clearly the first time I saw Jackson in St. Louis. He and Hugo came to visit me there (Fenton was there too) and we went to an art fair. Everyone marveled over these little puppies. As we walked back to the car, we put them down and all at once, whether out of exuberance or as an attempt to get away, Jackson began running at full speed at the end of his little leash. Here was this little toy poodle puppy weighing all of 3 pounds, "running like the wind" and me trying to catch up.

Jackson was a very smart boy. He could not jump like Hugo so he learned how to climb to get on the couch. When Fenton first got the fence in the backyard, Jackson patiently went foot by foot to show her where he could escape, allowing her to barricade the tiny gaps. I am sure he did it so Hugo would not run away.

He learned early on how to tell us he had to go outside. He would run to the door or run over to us, get on his back paws and hit my leg or Fenton's. He used this to great effect. He learned that this behavior meant that his person would go to the door. This came in handy when Fenton was eating in front the television. It started with cereal. Fenton would sit down with a bowl of cereal. Jackson would hit her leg and when she got up, he would double back to the table and start lapping up the milk in the bowl. Bad boy.

When we would come home from being out, we would be greeted by Hugo running back and forth uncertain which owner should get attention. Jackson's tail would be wagging and he would immediately run off and bring a toy to share with his person.

Hugo is cute, but Jackson was as handsome a dog who has ever lived. He had deep brown eyes and a serious expression. If he did not bark so loud, and pound for pound he was the loudest dog whoever lived, he would be considered the strong silent type. He was an earnest dog. He looked like he knew what you were saying or was trying desperately to understand.

He was bossy. He thought he ran the household. Truth is, most of the time he did. When he wanted to come in, he made no pretenses. He hurled his body against the door or barked until we let him in the house. At precisely 4:30 he expected to eat each afternoon. And I will be dammed if he could not tell time. At about 4:35-4:40, he would begin the stare: looking at you until you noticed the clock. If it got to 4:45, the barking would commence. The funniest thing about this was that if he came to St. Louis, in a different time zone, he knew. He would demand his supper at 4:35 local time.

And when he wanted to play, he would bark and challenge you to chase him around. Unlike Hugo, he was great at "fetch." He would retrieve his toy and bring it back, ready to go get it again. Sometimes when he thought someone was outside, he would want to go out and bring a toy outside with him. And of course, when he would be at the backdoor, the toy would be left behind. I would say to him: "Jackson, go get your toy." And he would go and pick it up and bring it back in the house. We tried this with Craig to get him to pick up his clothes, but it never worked. So, you tell me, who was smarter, the toy poodle or the Harvard Ph.D.?

I say this not to brag or to say my dog is better than yours (though he was), but Jackson was the valedictorian of obedience school. He was far and away the fastest learner in the class. We did not call it obedience class, of course, or else he would not have gone. Or maybe he knew it was obedience class, but he thought that it was the humans who were being trained to be obedient.

If there was a time that I wanted to play, I would say "Jack, where's your toy; go get your toy." This often worked and I had someone to play with. When I would challenge him, I would say "c'mon Jack, let's fight" and we were off to the races.

Taking Jackson for a walk was interesting. We would say "want to go for a walk in the park." And then ask Jackson and Hugo, "where's your leash?" Jackson was on a leash, but he was the one in control. A walk with Jackson was really more of a sniff. He walked at his own pace, which was to say, slowly. They often counsel those people who are busy or workaholics (or so they tell me) to take time to smell the roses. No one had to tell Jackson that. He would stop to smell the roses, the daffodils, violets, many other flowers I cannot spell, every tree, shrubs, trash cans, wooden fences, metal fences, the playground, well you get the picture. He was checking to see what dogs had been there. He would leave his pee-mail for other dogs and stop to see what those other dogs had to say about things. Sometimes I would get impatient with him while he stopped over and over. Fenton would occasionally have to remind me this was for him and not for us. I long to go and stop at every tree.

At night or in the afternoon, Jackson would curl up with Fenton or me. Hugo, as befitting his place in the pecking order, would always sleep at the foot of the bed or on our legs. Jackson came right to the top and on one of our pillows. He would put his head on my shoulder and get in the crook of my arm and just go off to sleep. Many's a night I did not get a good night's sleep or I woke up with a stiff neck because I did not want to disturb him. I don't regret a night of it.

If Hugo was sitting on my lap, Jackson might chase him off, so I would lay down so Jackson could lie on my shoulder and Hugo could lie across my legs. That would be my view of heaven, watching a ballgame with my boys laying on top of me. I may not have gotten much work done, but I was happy.

Jackson was not a healthy dog. He had allergies, frequent stomach aches, and other physical maladies. He had to get an injection every week and constantly had pills being shoved down his throat or drops put into his nose. He took it all stoically. He accepted his treatments. I hope he knew that they were for his own good. He knew at the end of the treatment, there was a cookie or, even better, a piece of green pepper as a reward.

I hope that we brought Jackson even a fraction of the joy that he brought us. I hope that we can remember how he lived rather than how he died. In time, I think we will. He was a special little guy: a unique dog with a complex personality. He was smart, loyal, and very funny. We miss him so much. We loved him so dearly and always will.

In the end, he earned and deserved a much better fate. He was a first ballot Hall of Fame dog. And if there is a doggy heaven, he is there now bossing everyone around and keeping them in line.