Jack The Dog - Legend

Jack The Dog (2012 - 2026)

I’ve written here before about pet loss. Both how much it hurts and how frequently it gets ‘disenfranchised’ by others - people who don’t get pet love and don’t feel that grieving them is either appropriate or worthy.

I’ve written here before about pet loss, but that was in response to other people’s questions and losses.

Today it’s my turn, our turn. Today we say goodbye to our dear dog Jack.

Fourteen years we’ve had him. And, if you’re one of those people who doesn’t get or value pet grief, then skip this post. If you’re deeply grieving someone and feel my grief is inappropriate, I get that so move right along.

For I am grieving and I want to be open and honest. I’ve always believed in writing my way through grief - in a bid to process my thoughts, to get them out, to work them out, to understand, to be less alone in my head with them, to seek to understand.

I’ve written so much about grief these past 12 years since Abi died, spoken so much about it too. Having lost my mum, daughter, brother and dad, I know grief in its many forms. I say that ‘every loss is different’ and ‘everybody grieves differently’ all the time, and it’s true. Just as love is complex and varied and multifaceted, so too is grief.

However, all I can feel today is how academic and cognitive my insights have become of late. I’ve kind of known this - finding myself at some stage recently pondering if grief is like childbirth, in that we forget how awful it is until it’s upon us.

Well today is that day - it’s upon us. The vet is coming at 5pm today; it’s time.

A few weeks ago I began to worry about my lack of tears at the looming prospect of Jack’s ultimate demise. I felt too cold, too calculating, too pragmatic for my own liking. One visit to the vet stopped that. Watching him there - this dog who has been my/our trusted side-kick for so many years, through so much - standing there being probed by the vet, the tears came. Reality hit. Love took over.

I have loved this dog so much. As a family member, as a friend, as a running buddy, through all of his trials and tribulations - of which there have been many. For much of his life Jack has been a scrapper, a classic Jack Russell terrier - terriorising his community, barking, biting if he could, chasing sea-gulls, reflections, shouting at birds in the sky, waiting for the courier to chase him along our side of the hedge. He’s not been the easiest of dogs - but, for all of that, I’ve somehow loved him more. Love, as we know is a funny thing.

And so is grief. I found myself yesterday, lying on a mat at pilates, head on the ground, tears coming, wondering, ‘how are we going to live without him’. It seems absurd now: I do know rationally that I/we can live without him, but he’s been here so long, such a huge part of the fabric of our lives. An omnipresent constant force.

When I was a child, my mummy gave me a framed picture of a poem that I have still.

A master who is firm and kind

And understands a doggy mind

A walkie and a meal each day

That’s all I ask for when I pray.

I recreated it for our boys a few years back with a few additions: two walkies and two meals each day was what Jack and Lulu have always asked for when they pray.

Jack Hone, you have been one of the most enduring and significant relationships of my life. You have looked after me, loved me, stood and sat by me and on me, lay beside me on the couch, on the beach, in our bed, listened to me, ran with me, walked with me, biked with us, absolutely done my head in, given me hours of worry, and a life time of love. Thank you.

Whatever today brings, we will always love and remember you. 🩵 🐶 🩵