Everyone deals with grief differently. This is my way. A tribute to our dog, Jackson. A Tribute to An Almost Perfect Dog On Dec 2 our yellow Labrador named Jackson passed away. He was almost 13 and was the very first dog we ever had as a couple. I had grown up with dogs. When I was a baby my parents had an Australian Sheppard named Lucy. When I was three I got my first dog, a German Sheppard, that I named Steppenwolf. If that doesn’t tell you that my parents were hippies and it was the early 70’s then I don’t what else will. When I was age 8 we got a second hand Golden Retriever, from my Dad’s boss, that his young daughter had named Treva, apparently because she couldn’t pronounce Retriever. My husband, on the other hand, never had a dog. I spent 2 years trying to convince him that we needed to get a dog- specifically an almost white Labrador that was big in size I tried to persuade him using all my best arguments, eventually resorting to cajoling and pleading on occasion, while he threw out excuse after excuse. After about 2 years of this I sensed I was wearing him down so I resorted to the most shamelss of tactics- taking him to see litters of baby Labrador puppies. How could anyone say no to bringing home one of those warm, fuzzy balls of love? Two months later, we visited a litter in Gunnison, CO and picked out Jackson. He was largest of the litter, the lightest in color and both his parents were close to 100 pounds. This was the TRIFECTA! We did what any good doggie parent does and tried to test his temperament by squeezing his toes, picking him up, cradling him, watching him at play, etc. He was mellow. SO much so that on subsequent visits I grew concerned- he was so mellow and relaxed that I began to thinking something was wrong with him. Had we picked out a defective puppy? In fact, there was nothing wrong; He was just a super mellow dog. A lover – not a fighter. Sweet boy. We named him Jackson- my choice. I had the name picked out for years☺ He was also known as The General, Action Jackson, Pumpkin, Punky Doodles, Eeyore and his Indian name: Shits While he Walks. His names reflected the many different sides of his personality. To me – he was usually Pumpkin, but each name brings certain memories to mind. Jackson lived the outdoor life. At 6 months of age he summited his first 14’er – Handies Peak in Colorado. Unfortunately he wore himself out on the way up and had to be carried almost all the way back down. Later on he climbed Mt. Timpanogoes and Naomi Peak in Utah. We spent countless hours and many nights hiking and camping throughout Colorado and Utah. We also took him rock climbing and snowshoeing. OF course, he always insisted on sleeping inside the tent- not outside. At least once during these nights we would expel some nasty doggie gas and I think he even threw up a couple of times. So he wasn’t the best of tent mates but there is also nothing better than having large warm dog lean against you while sleeping. Like any dog he had some bad habits. He learned to counter surf early on. He developed a taste for quarter pound cubes of butter- wrapper be damned. One day he was able sneak the butter cube- from the glass covered butter dish, without leaving any evidence. The glass cover was perfectly repositioned and there wasn’t a smudge of slobber anywhere. Another time he stole two quarter pound cubes of butter, in wrappers, off a plate on the counter. I was softenng them in order to make chocolate chip cookies. I blamed my husband, as there was no evidence left behind! Jackson also loved loaves of bread and once ate an entire tray of frosted brownies while I was at work… which he promptly threw up when I got home. He had a fondness for any type of meat, pizza, bagels, pepperoni sticks (the human kind as well as the doggie kind); milk, broth (any flavor) and the list could go on. Compared to other dogs his bad habits weren’t that bad. He never ate my shoes, chewed through walls or destroyed furniture. The worst thing he ever did was pull up about an inch of carpet in the middle of the floor in our new house. My husband did such a fine job patching it that I never knew what had happened until about 8 years later. Sometimes Jackson would let his frustrations out when we left him home alone but all he did was shred a tissue or paper towel, which he would get from the trash. Such a polite dog. He also had a fondness for packages and boxes (maybe because he associated them with his feelings about the people who delivered them) and he would rip open and shred the box. This carried over to Christmas gifts but he only seemed interested in opening mine. How he knew which ones where mine I will never know. He didn’t bother anyone else’s EXCEPT for the time my husbands parents sent him a wrapped box of Auntie Annie’s Pretzel mix- and DIDN’T tell us. We came home to pretzel mix spread all over the living room floor along with shredded wrapping paper and box parts. Everyone who knew him loved him and in turn he loved all people UNLESS you happened to wear a uniform and deliver packages to our house. He could hear the Fed Ex or UPS truck from a couple of blocks away and would start barking before the driver’s door even opened. His bark was so ferocious that we once had a home security system sales person ring our doorbell and then back off our porch to a distance of about 10 feet. When Jeff opened the door the man introduced himself and then said that it sounded like we already had our own security system. SO true! Jackson was a smart dog and learned everything quickly. He only had 1 ½ accidents in the house before he was potty trained. He quickly learned how walk nicely on leash. He learned sit, stay, come and ‘drop it’ very quickly. But he was stubborn about some things. He refused to have anything to do with crate training. We tried for a week but we couldn’t take the constant howling. They say that dogs won’t go to the bathroom in their crate- well that rule did not apply to Jackson. I think it was one of his many tactics to get ‘out’ of the kennel. He did the same thing in his travel kennel, which I used when I took him with me to work. He was constantly peeing in that kennel- even within minutes of me walking him outside. I quickly realized that he was better off, and I would be saner, if I left him out his kennel and on his own in the office. For 3 years he pretty much came to work with me every day. On occasion, he would escape from the office, usually because he was waiting right at the door and zipped out as soon as an unsuspecting employee opened the door. I would hear him galloping across the concrete floors, nails clicking and tags jingling. He always ran right for me. We were a pack. Like many other dogs our boy also had some irrational fears. The first was thunder, which made him shake uncontrollably, pant and try to squeeze himself into impossibly small spaces that weren’t made for 100-pound dogs. He was equally afraid of the wind monster, which reared its ugly head and often rattled our windows in Utah. He developed an unhealthy fear of cattle guards and rumble strips. SO much so that he once forced his body through a metal dog barrier in my SUV on a road trip and the next thing I knew I had 100 pound dog trying to sit on my lap. Not a good combination while driving on the freeway. The dog barrier was bent almost to the point where it was unusable. He was determined. The only other thing he really didn’t like was his little sister. She arrived in 2010 and it shouldn’t be a surprise that I had spent several more years convincing Jeff that we needed to have a SCEOND dog- specifically a LARGE, female, yellow Labrador☺ Once again I wore him down and we found Jasmine. Jackson didn’t think it was such a good idea. He resented her intrusion from the beginning and tried two kill her twice by biting down on her head- once puncturing her cheek, which required 4 staples to close. He eventually coming to tolerate her but I can’t blame his reaction- he had been an only dog for SO long and she was the complete opposite of him. It took me a year to bond with her and during that time called her the Little Terrorist, Jihadi Jane and P.I.T.A. (Pain in the Ass). As the years passed our lives changes and Jackson grew older. He moved with us from Colorado to Utah eventually to Washington. By the time we got to Washington he was displaying some early signs of what I call doggie dementia although at times I wasn’t sure if this was really condition or just a tactic he employed to get out of doing something I wanted him to do. No matter where we lived we always found water and he loved being in the water. What Lab doesn’t? In Utah that usually meant a kiddies pool, in the back yard on hot summer days but we were also able to occasionally find lakes and stream for him to romp around in. When we got to Washington we spent a summer on Dye’s Inlet where he would beeline for the water just about every time I let him out of the house. He was sneaky about it too. He’d stand at the door, which meant he had to go ‘potty’, so I would let him out and then he would sniff around the yard. The very minute I became districted he was off like a rocket, down to the bay and into the salt water. Nothing like having a wet, salty dog in your 400 square foot cottage. While in Washington I was able to take him to the house I grew up in on the SolDuc River. He loved wading in the river and walking in the surf of the Pacific Ocean. Jackson lived a full life and our life was richer and more fulfilling because of him. The last months weren’t easy for him as his decline accelerated. It was painful to watch my boy change, lose weight, lose interest in his toys, and lose interest in the tennis ball. But he was always there to greet us every day- tail a waggin’ – even on his last day. I can’t imagine our life without him. He leaves behind his little sister Jasmine; his cousin Maxine (a snooty black poodle who doesn’t even know she’s a dog), his closest doggie friends Stanley and Bridger, his grandparents and friends all over the country and us, his most imperfect dog parents that miss him so much that it hurts. We love you Pumpkin.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Dec 2014 04:48:19 +0000
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