JACKY

When I brought you home, you threw up in the Toyota Tercel. It was 1996.

You were days ahead of death in a Hamilton kennel, you long legged, unwanted, mutt of a Jack Russel.

We ate hot dogs that night, while our mother plead to our father, that you were the missing link.

Our father wouldn't have it personally, but couldn't say no; that's matrimony.

Our brother and I were ecstatic; our mother felt like a martyr, and our father sat home impatiently, anticipating the newest member.

I made a silly joke, to make our brother laugh, because at this point in his life, he snorted, and you just snorted back.

We all were entertained. Our father smiled, and your place in the home was ordained.

For the first few months, we wouldn't let you go. You jumpy little mutt, scaping away between bedrooms where we held you closely on a leash.

You got to meet Stella, un gatto nero e bianca.
Upon command, you'd chase her tail around the hall, but you knew we loved her, and were just as loyal.

When Stella had kittens, you protected them from her, and of her three litters, we kept the smallest one that she delivered, and called it Lola. She was your kitten, until she ran away. Then she was your regret. Until we got Owen, you had few friends.

For a busy family, we were, and let you have the house, we did. All day you'd sit there, imprisoned in a mansion of drywall. Your nose wet with the smell of steaks.

I trust you got it lucky Jacky, they thought that no one wanted you, but we took you home to a chef and made sure to always spoil you.

We soon learned how you loved marshmallows, before we all went camping. Then we stopped at Baskin Robbins, and I bought you vanilla ice cream.

If you were the sheep dog, the bigger dogs were your sheep. You would always be giving them a lesson or two, in the proper conduct of a family.

We trusted your bark was good enough, because we'd never let you bite
and you'd tell us when you were mad at us, by eating up our shoes.

A quiet rebellion, because I think you knew, that you were just as dependent on us, as we were to you.

Likely as I type this, your fur is being soaked with our mother's tears.

While our dad's head slowly floods with the tears he's too afraid to shed.

Our brother is waiting impatiently, on the other side of the world, to fall asleep and dream about his 'favourite girl'

You kept things honest, for a beggar, and we trusted us to let you know when you wanted something.

For 84 years, 15 to me, you smiled with your eyes and chased the waves along the coast of Wasaga beach.

Or at least, we're sure thats what you saw, when you lay down on your bed to sleep, and dream, of waves and rabbits, and a shoreline made of dog-treats.

Today you rest in peace.

I'm going to miss you Jacky, you had a black patch on your left eye, and we'll always share that similarity.

Now you're turning to dust. A needle in the neck. A chemical shooting through your veins, to the rotten brain inside your head.

Last night I gave you a hot dog, and marshmallows, and vanilla ice cream.

I never wanted to see you suffer
My only regret is that I wish I knew how to bark better.