In the summer of 1997, Lauren and I had been married for a few years, and we decided to get a puppy.
We adopted a yellow lab at 8 weeks and brought him home. We named him Jackson because we thought it suited him and because we had lived on a place at the corner of Webster and Jackson Street in San Francisco.
Jackson instantly became part of our family. I have endless memories of the mischief and the love. When he was young, he tore up our yard, ate one of Lauren’s homemade apple pies when no one was looking, ate a hacky sack and no loose sock was safe when Jackson was around. The stories are endless.
He was there when our first child was born and our second and our third. They have always known Jackson being part of this house. Hanging with them at the bus stop and chilling out under the kitchen table. My dad would slip him bagels when no one was looking.
For years, I would come home from an out of town flight and he was the first one to greet me at the door regardless of the hour. Tailing wagging and letting me know he was glad to see me.
The last year has not been kind to Jackson. After he turned 14 last summer, his health took a turn. He couldn’t run around, had trouble getting out of his bed. And the last few weeks he developed a severe respiratory problem. The suffering took over and became too much for him and for us.
Last night we said good bye to Jackson. Everyone was crying in our house. My daughter Ellie asked Lauren if dogs ever come back to life.
This morning when I woke up, his life and our lives together overwhelmed me so I wanted to write this all down.
I will miss that dog with all my heart. He was so good to us.