Five years ago last September, I set off on a two day drive on a stomach turning adventure. I had only ever met three greyhounds and I was going to get my very own. What was I thinking? There he was! My Jack. My greyhound. He was a black boy which I had asked for. And he was beautiful which I had hoped for. But he was so shy; so scared. I was too. We made our way back across the country from Calgary to Winnipeg the both of us scared to death.
I had no idea what I was doing and was so afraid I was going to ruin him. With help from my group, from friends in our local greyhound group and lots of patience and so much love, my sweet boy blossomed. At least at home. And he and his Grandma bonded over their lunchtime chicken soup and other illicit treats. Away from home, unless he was with his grey friends, the world was still a scary place for him.
Two years later his dear Grandma was dying. She was in a palliative care unit and desperately missing her Jack. I knew how scared he would be but she needed him. So one evening shortly before she died, I took him into this strange building, onto an elevator which he had never done before and then down the long hall into her room. She had saved him some food from her supper. My heart dropped. This ritual had always been so important to her but Jack would never take any food outside his own home, ever! I thought my heart would break with her disappointment. But my boy walked up to her, put his head on her bed, and took the piece of ham she offered him. My good brave boy. I loved him even more and was grateful for that gift he gave her, more than I can ever say.
After his Grandma died, we made the trip back to Calgary to bring his sister Jilly home. She provided a buffer for him from the world and gave him more confidence. He loved having a sister. He even got brave enough to lie down in his own backyard! The world never got to see his silly self. Flinging stuffies in the air. Chasing me down the stairs into the living room and pouncing. Giving me a huge smile as if to say I got you mum. He loved the night time and going for walks in the dark. I guess he thought no one could see him.
Then this May the limp. The diagnosis. The monster. Jack decided that he needed to stay around for longer than I hoped and dreamed. We had a wonderful summer. There were days when I couldn't believe he was sick at all, that there must have been a mistake. But as the summer wore on and his world got smaller, no more walks, no more car trips and his leg got shakier, it was very apparent that it was real. But he never really was in any pain till one day at the end and he was always happy. In his final months, he even forgot to be afraid. It was like he couldn't be bothered with that nonsense anymore.
His last evening he lay in my arms on his own bed in his own house with his sister and brother lying beside him and left us, peacefully, to be healthy once again. Where no one will stop him from running and his leg won't hurt.
Jack I will never forget how you would bound across the field to me when I opened my arms and called to you. I will be forever humbled by the trust you placed in me to keep you safe. I won’t forget how you would cruise in sideways like a docking boat for a cuddle. How you loved the girl dogs. How you would lie across the room and just stare at me like I was special and worthy. I will never forget your sweet white face that just begged to be kissed and that will live in my heart forever. You came such a long way my special boy. You were the best and most perfect dog. I was blessed with you. Thank you. I will love you forever. Nite nite sweetheart.