The Littlest Runaway

We lost the oldest member of our Runaway team this weekend. Jack died (after a sad night of suffering) from apparent heart failure on Saturday.

Jack was not a ‘normal’ dog. I adopted him January 1st 2006, as a senior of undetermined age. Around 8 to 10, they said. A violent, hardened street dog, missing an eye from battle and with a few broken ribs – likely from the same cause.

It took about two years of ‘heavy labour’ to (mostly) correct his hostile tendencies. Surely once needed for survival as a 6 lb homeless city dog, living beside the McDonalds dumpster.

He loved bags and getting dressed up. I would have never thought about doing such things until he tried to climb into my purse the first time. Indeed he would get very excited when his bag (pictured above) would come out.

Someone once loved him before he was lost to the streets. But not as much as I did for the years he lived with us.

What Jack did best was travel. On the bike, in a plane, car, boat – whatever – he loved it. I took him to Thailand with me for the year I lived there. He handled the 36 hour transit without incident, and when we would drive the 12 hours to visit my sister, he would sleep on my lap the whole time.

There was nothing you couldn’t do with Jack. He was special.

So now that he is gone, and his ashes sit on our bookshelf, our little family will take some time to mourn – and then we will get back to it.

We miss you Jack <3. The house is very quiet without you.

(One-Eyed) Jack ‘Hoover’ Rhodes 1996-8? – March 16 2013