He’s always a good dog to me.
(Our Mom wrote a lovely essay about Jake as well at her site here.)
Our 11-year-old free spirited, charismatic, crazy, amitriptyline consuming dog, Jake, will be put to sleep at 2:30 today.
Jake was first known as the Hollabaugh beer dog because pre-neutered, he would hang out at the distributor. Once caught by the dog catcher, he ended up at our local humane society where my Mom adopted him.
After being neutered he would still have some ‘private moments’ with our couch cushions.
He’s afraid of thunderstorms, barks at the same mail man who has been delivering our mail for years, dislikes the garbage man, and isn’t too fond of being held back.
He loves carrots, apple cores, peanut butter, ice cubes, popcorn…bags of Hershey kisses…foil included. He loves romping in the backyard, handshakes, pets behind the ear and rolling on his back.
Jake is big, in the way a lot, and all around a pain in the neck. He would run past you when you’d open the front door and Carly and I would have to chase him down with the van with the side door open.
He is wiry, neurotic, and a piece of work.
I’m going to miss him.
John Grogan, writer of Marley and Me put it perfectly. I’ll let him take it from here:
“Then I dropped my forehead against his and sat there for a long time, as if I could telegraph a message through our two skulls, from my brain to his. I wanted to make him understand some things.
“You know all that stuff we’ve always said about you?” I whispered. “What a total pain you are? Don’t believe it. Don’t believe it for a minute, Marley.” He needed to know that, and something more, too. There was something I had never told him, that no one ever had. I wanted him to hear it before he went.
“Marley,” I said. “You are a great dog.””
— John Grogan (Marley & Me: Love and Life with the World’s Worst Dog)