My main man Jack is currently living it up in an rv, a girlfriend or six in every state.
We got Jack as a puppy when I was I’m middle school. Dogs had been a permanent installment throughout my entire life, but none of them got me quite like Jack.
I don’t believe that there has ever been a moment in my life where I didn’t have anxiety. Even as a wee lass, I would scream bloody murder anytime another human being outside my immediate family would try to talk to me. I was never particularly capable of handling the stress I endured.
And then I met Jack. That sweet boy was exactly what I needed, letting me hang all over him and cry into the scruff of his neck. He’d put his head on my shoulder like a little puppy hug and stay there for as long as I needed.
I got older and the stress got worse. I spent my high school years being systematically ignored by the entire student body. Two years, and the only socialization I had was with my family and my teachers. I spent the next two years at the college getting my first degree, where I learned that not needing to study in high school was actually a bad thing. Through it all, there was Jack. My rock.
I truly love that dog like no other. I have fond memories of him protecting my popcorn from the grasping hands of my father, sitting on the porch steps like a complete doofus, and genuinely being my best pal.
I miss the heck out of him.
But I know that he’s happy, traveling the States with my parents and his buddy Boomer. I know that I couldn’t give him the life he deserves in my downtown apartment. But he will forever have a place at my side.
(Thanks, Shayne, for the rad tattoo.)