Jack When my soul dog died Born 2013; lived with us March 2014 -- August 31, 2026 When I was a little girl, I begged my mom for a dog, and I mean BEGGED! At night I would lie in bed repeating, "I want a dog, I want a dog, I want a dog," over and over again, sometimes while also crying until I finally fell asleep. My mom was a single parent and schoolteacher, and although I was a responsible kid who absolutely promised I would do EVERYTHING with our lifestyle it just wasn't possible. We live in an apartment, left early, and got home late. As an adult, I completely understand why I couldn't have a dog as a kid, but I never stopped wanting one. In college and beyond, when I knew it still wasn't the right time, I dog sat ALL the dogs I knew, and I loved them, but was still waiting for my own dog.. And then, 12.5 years ago, during one of the hardest times of my life, Jack found me. Through a completely random conversation, the person at my car dealership connected me with a family looking to rehome their one-year-old Husky. I asked Theo if we could get him, and he didn't take even one second before saying, "Of course!" I made an appointment to meet Jack the next day. When I arrived, this adorable 1 year old Husky puppy, who I was told normally jumped all over people at the door, walked over to me and simply sat down at my feet. They couldn't believe it, and at that moment it was so clear we'd chosen each other. They sent me home with Jack that day and from then until the day he died, August 31, 2026, he was a part of our family: faithful, loyal, hilarious, occasionally infuriating, endlessly loving. I always told him, "You fell from heaven right into my arms. You fell from heaven right into my heart." Because that's what it felt like. Jack came to me in this almost mystical way, at exactly the moment I needed him, an answer to the prayer I'd been praying since I was a little girl. He was my dream come true. Jack loved our entire family, but he was unmistakably my dog. I was the best part of his day. I have never doubted for one second how much that dog adored me. There is something profound about being loved that completely. Sometimes I think being loved by Jack helped me recognize my own intrinsic goodness. If a creature that wonderful thought I was the greatest person in the entire world, I must be doing something right. But loving Jack wasn't always easy, especially in the beginning. One night in August 2014 Jack escaped, and in full predator mode got into a neighbor's chicken coop. As he was about to wreak havoc on the chickens, Theo reached in to grab him... and then Jack bit him. For a time, seeing I was six months pregnant, we decided we would have to rehome him, even interviewing people, but ultimately that was not the right thing for us. Instead we kept Jack and started training him. I am so incredibly grateful that we did, because the young pup I worried might not be able to live safely with a baby, became the best dog and family member in the multiverse. When Rafi was born, I was nervous about how Jack would react. Jack surprised me in the best possible way. When Rafi came home, Jack seemed to understand immediately that his position in the pack had changed and that he had been given a new assignment: Love and Protect the baby. In those early days, wherever Rafi was, Jack would position himself nearby. Jack loved kids and would always be in the middle of Marley and his friends, or Rafi and his friends, or any of my friends' kids. He loved to be loved by kids. He would smile ear to ear when seeing them. Of course, Jack was still Jack, he was a Husky, after all. But the dog Jack became didn't happen overnight. When we first got him he was notorious for eating through collars and leashes. He pulled like the sled dog he was so we learned how to work with his natural instinct to pull rather than punishing him for it and he ended up wearing the same harness for the rest of his life with us. He also hated having his paws touched but we worked on that too. Eventually we taught him to have "soft paws." When we said it, he would literally relax his paws until they became completely soft and limp, and I could do anything with them. Young Jack was a mischievous Houdini with opinions, energy, and absolutely no respect for the fenced in yard. We spent lots of time running around the neighborhood looking for him. One time a fierce neighbor cat, Ninja, helped out by containing Jack in their yard until we could come retrieve him. And when Jack figured out that his best dog friend, Zeus, lived up the street, he would occasionally take off to visit, Anne Marie would call me Jack's here. If you had asked me when I first brought Jack home, I would have told you there would never be a day when he'd safely be off-leash or outside a fence. But Jack worked on that, too, and eventually, he became an incredible off-leash country dog. At our new house he could frolic and explore and simply be a dog, and when we called, he came. He even somehow understood where to go to the bathroom so that it was always out of our way, in places where nobody cared if there was dog poop. Jack absolutely loved running. Theo would take him and Rafi in the running stroller and they'd go for 5-13 miles almost every day. When my father-in-law was in town Jack would light up as it meant he got to go run with him too. In Hatteras, he escaped and nearly got himself kicked by the horses across the street from where we were staying. He loved the beach it was his favorite place to visit. He hunted ghost crabs, dug in the sand, and adored anything that came from the ocean. Salmon, crab, lobster--those were some of his favorites. He also LOVED winter snowstorms. There was truly nothing more happy than Jack on a snow day. He'd play in it for as long as we let him and when the boys were young he pulled both of them on sleds and that was when he was really the most joyful. Even in his old age he was known to have a few adventures. One time getting lost in the forest with Theo for 3 hours ending up at the dam having to be carried and placed onto a tall piling to then be lifted by a cherry picker onto the barge, that was repairing the dam, to eventually be driven back to the parking lot in the front of a truck cab. And in June 2026, he tussled with a skunk and was fully skunked, an experience neither of us had ever had before, and one I'd love to avoid ever having again. He also loved butcher bones. He would bury them in the yard and apparently maintain some sort of private inventory system known only to him. Months--or sometimes what seemed like years--later, we'd let him outside and he'd return triumphantly carrying some enormous ancient bone. Where was he keeping these things? The week before he died, Jack came to the back door carrying a big old bone. I honestly don't remember giving him bones like that at our new house because he'd lost some of his enthusiasm for them as he aged. It makes me laugh now to imagine him thinking, Well, better get the bones out. Nobody's going to know where they are when I'm gone. Jack talked, as Huskies do. He would tell me all about his very big feelings, and he could say "I WUV YOU" in the best Husky voice. He loved his toys, although his first order of business was always surgical removal of the squeaker. Once the squeaker had been successfully eliminated, however, he would keep the rest of the toy for months. He loved to snuggle and over the years perfected two highly sophisticated techniques we called nuzzies and whumwhums, where he would press and nuzzle his face into you and somehow become impossibly cute. He had his own special relationship with the people who would watch him when we traveled. He absolutely loved, Emily, Hayley, Tim, Chloe, Janice, Jackie, Ann Marie, Tony, Secca, Martin and Nelly the dog. I also never imagined Jack living so happily with another dog. But as he got older, I began to yearn for that. I wanted a puppy who could absorb and soak up some of Jack's energy, and maybe even inherit a few of those quirks we'd come to love so much. Jack could be reactive, dominant, and very much an alpha personality, so I wasn't sure how it would go. Then along came a 10-week-old Tropher, and I watched Jack get a new lease on life. Tropher gave Jack a renewed zeal for being a dog. They played and explored together, and I truly believe Tropher extended Jack's life through that final summer. I think that little puppy gave us another six months with him, and I will always be grateful for that. Jack had several health problems throughout his life. When he was around nine or ten, he began having grand mal seizures. Watching them was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. There was nothing we could do except keep him safe and calm, make sure he didn't hurt himself, and stay beside him while he recovered and drank what seemed like gallons of water. At the time, I thought the seizures would be the end of him, they weren't. We figured it out. Jack was eventually weaned off his medication and went on to live another three and a half years seizure-free. Having dogs is for the brave hearted. You never know what may happen or what deep reserve of strength you will have to find when a creature you love depends entirely upon you. Toward the end of his life, Jack developed cancer. He had malignant growths on his rear end and spent his final days wearing a donut and a surgical suit. Somehow, even that couldn't dampen his joy or his spirit. The night before he died, we took our normal after-dinner poop walk with both dogs. Jack was smiling, and prancing, and just having the best time. He gave us absolutely no indication that hours later he would be gone. We went to bed like we always did, with Jack sleeping on his bed in our room. At some point during the night, though, he got up and moved to the couch. He loved his spot there. Around midnight, I got up to use the bathroom and checked on him. I discovered that his malignant tumor was bleeding, so I woke Theo and we began our familiar cornstarch-and-gauze protocol to stop it. We gave Jack his pain medication, got him comfortable and settled, and I went back to bed. Then, around 2 a.m., our cat Primrose came into the bedroom and started slapping me. She wanted me awake. So I got up. I could tell Jack's breathing had changed and that he wasn't comfortable. I took cushions from the couch and made myself a bed on the kitchen floor next to Jack's bed. I stretched my arm toward him. He nuzzled himself into the crook of it. Then Primi came over and lay down on my belly, right beside Jack. And that's how we stayed. I stroked Jack's head and told him he was the best boy. I told him he had done everything he came here to do. I told him that he could go, and that I would be okay. He seemed to relax. We talked about the friends he loved who had already crossed the Rainbow Bridge--Rosebud, Zeus, Rowdy--and I told him they would be there waiting for him. His breathing would settle, then he would gasp, then settle again. At 4:30 that morning, I texted the people who were scheduled to come to our home on Saturday to help Jack pass peacefully. I asked them to come that day instead. I didn't want him to suffer. I didn't want him to be in pain. But Jack had other plans, sometime between 5 and 6 a.m., I fell asleep on the kitchen floor with my beloved Jack in my arms and Primrose asleep on my stomach. When my alarm went off at 6 a.m., Jack was gone. He didn't make me decide when it was time. Even in his last breath Jack took care of me. He left this world at home, in his favorite place, wrapped in my arms, with Primi by his side, hearing the voice of the person he loved most telling him that he was a good boy, that his work here was finished, and that it was okay to go. Jack is buried at our house by Rowdy. I have fond memories of both of them living their best lives, free and happy, roaming around and exploring the land. There will never be another Jack. He was my childhood wish come true, the dog who appeared during one of the hardest times in my life. He was my protector, my lovey boy, my beach boy, my bone hoarder, my Chuchi Barkarella, my Jack N Pups,my loyal and constant companion, my family. He was my soul dog. Until we meet again, my sweet boy, remember: You fell from heaven right into my arms. You fell from heaven right into my heart. I love you forever, my sweet Jacky boy!

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