Jackie by Scott & Mike / Scott and Mike

My Dearest Jackie,

I’m selfishly writing this hoping it will help. I know it’s cheesy, but I want to remember things you did, we did, things that have made our lives much better for the past eight years.

Thank you for crying at 3:00 am when you were a baby so I could get up and rock you back to sleep-spoiling
you rotten from the beginning.

Thank you for going ape experiencing your first thunderstorm as well as EVERY OTHER ONE
throughout your life.

Thank you for unraveling rugs, chewing door facings, base boards, and every chair and table leg you could get your teeth into. It helps me remember.

Thank you for convincing Mike to take you when I, out of frustration and a total ignorance in raising a dog, wanted to get rid of you. I hope you forgive me for that.

Thank you for all the “I’m so sorry” looks you gave when you had “accidents”.

Thank you for doing all those tricks Mike taught you, especially “playing Tim”. I don’t think you even did them for a treat. I think it was to show us how silly we can be.

Thank you for saving us $29.95 a month by not having to activate the alarm system. I wish we had recorded your ferocious bark (even though strangers never realized all you would have done was sniff and lick them to death.) We also always knew when the pizza had arrived.

Thank you for the walks to the park where you would always jump in that nasty water like you thought you could swim-and then even drink it for God’s sake. I’m sorry I didn’t take you on more of those walks.

Thank you for thinking the words “bitch” and “stinky” were endearments. Or, at least making me think you thought that.

Thank you for going with me to see my Mom when she was ill. You made her feel a lot better and she was proud to sit out on that veranda with you by her feet and everyone staring. You know she always referred to you as her granddaughter, knowing full well she’d never get one out of me.

Thank you for the gifts you would bring us every time we came home, even if we had just been gone 3 minutes to the corner store, welcoming us as if we’d been gone 3 days.

Thank you for letting the first thing I saw every morning be your chin resting on the side of my bed,
waiting for me to get up.

Thank you for the looks you gave me your last morning here, somehow letting me know everything was ok and you were tired and ready.

Thank you for letting me hold your face close to mine, while not flinching one bit as the needle was inserted.

Thank you for letting me experience your last tired, weak, heavy sigh, somehow making it strangely beautiful.

Most of all, my dear, dear one, thank you for drawing me to your attention the day we met, prompting me to remove you from a place where you more than likely would not have survived. Do you remember? I told you on the drive home, while you trembled in my lap, “Girl, you are in for one hell of a good life.” My hope and prayer is that we fulfilled that promise because you certainly gave us one.

I hope somewhere, somehow, you can hear me and know how much I love you and miss you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.

Rest now, Stinky.
November 1, 1997-September 23,2005

 

We love you,