Goodbye Jacob

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Friends,

Please understand that I am in a difficult time of mourning and am not able to function as well as usual. Yesterday I said my final goodbye to the most influential friend in my life so far, and watched the light drain from his eyes as the vet put the drug that stopped his heart into his vein. I don’t expect everyone to understand how the loss of a pet can be so devastating, but I want to tell you how special Jacob was to me.

He was part of a litter of 8 that was born at my neighbor’s. My daughter had saved her babysitting money to purchase a pup from this long anticipated litter. She picked her pup when they were only 3 weeks old. I admired the pups and was very interested in their development the following weeks. One day I was puppy-sitting and the pups were in a pen in my yard. All but one of the pups were at the fence, jumping and vying for my attention. Jacob, however, was sitting back a ways and looking right into my eyes. I knew at that moment that he was for me. Thus began my 15 + year relationship with what I consider to be the most vital life force I’ve ever encountered.

At the time of Jacobs’s birth, I had been in a lengthy period of illness and depression, and medicine and therapy were not helping me enough to be able to function on any sort of normal level. The love and support of my family kept me alive, but this young pup pulled me back from the darkness and helped me to find joy again. He would not let me sit idle, he would fuss at me and bring every toy and pile them on me until I would laugh at him and get up and go play with him.

Because he needed, indeed, demanded “work”, I met wonderful people that loved dogs and dog sports and activities and I started getting out in the world again, at least in the dog world. We went to puppy classes, agility classes and herding classes, and later to some competitions. Jacob was always the star, the smartest, the fastest, and the most focused. He gave me the legitimacy to run my heavy, uncoordinated body around a course, because I had the best dog, and didn’t have to be so self-conscious of my lack of grace and skill. This time brought my daughter and I closer as we attended classes and events together with our “super” dogs.

Because I was a novice, of limited physical ability, and had limited financial resources, he did not attain all the championships and titles that might have come under a better, more fit handler; I don’t believe he understood or cared about this, even though an “animal communicator” once told me that he was “cussing” at me as we ran a course. He always seemed to be happy in the moment and put much gusto in everyday activities, whether it was fetch in the yard, learning tricks, or fussing at me till I took him in the car somewhere: to play, swim in the river, chase geese, “shop” in a pet store, or just enjoy the air blowing in our faces.

The last two years have had their times of sadness and dread for me as I watched his physical body giving out on him and the activities he loved were no longer possible for him. It was hard to decide when it was time to do him the last service he required of me. I finally came to that determination this past weekend, as I watched him unable to get up from the floor or stay up when I lifted him and tried to steady him on his legs, and having to lie in his own urine as it came out beyond his control.

I made the appointment and, of course he had a rally, getting up and walking about and going down and up the ramp that has been necessary for him to even be able to get outdoors the last few years. He walked to the car and he walked into the vet’s under his own power. When the procedure was started he fought it, and looked right into my eyes as he had that first day, demanding that I stop this thing, but I knew that it was the right time and that his suffering of body and dignity needed to end. They took him in the back room, sedated him and put a catheter in his back leg before they brought him back to me for the final procedure. Even then, he kicked about and didn’t make it easy for the vet to administer the dose.

I still have a yard full of Jacob’s relatives, but I have a hole in my heart today. I know that grieving is another task of life and that I have to go through it rather than try to hide it, if that were even possible.

Please know that I covet and rely on your kindness, forbearance, and especially your prayers at this time. I am trying to focus on the work before me, even as I know Jacob would be fussing at me to get up and get moving forward little by little.

Thanks.

Editor's note: Jacob was not an MABCR dog. I posted this because Jacob's human spoke so eloquently of her loss and of Jacob's love. Rescue or not, we all understand that. Sarah