On Tuesday I bid a tearful farewell to the best fuzzy friend a girl could ever have.
I brought Jake home from the local shelter in the fall of ’96, and he’s been my constant and unfailing companion ever since. He saw me through the death of my mother, the end of my marriage, and countless other heartbreaks big and small. Quietly settling in next to me as I sobbed my way through boxes of tissues.
He accompanied me on five separate moves. Each time we arrived in a new space, Jake would ceremoniously sniff each and every box (I assume to make sure that all of our belongings arrived safely), and then flop himself in the middle of the living room floor as if to proclaim “we’re home.”
Jake snuggled up with me on the couch in the winter, and proudly brought me the bugs he hunted in summer. In the spring he ate my houseplants, and in the fall he chased the leaves that I tracked into the house. He acted as my second alarm clock, screaming loudly for his breakfast at precisely 6:45 each morning. He greeted me at the door every night when I came home. Jake was always there, purring like a motorboat. The one constant in life I could always count on.
But age catches up with the best of us, and so it did my Jakey. After a few years of manageable thyroid disease, his condition rapidly deteriorated. He refused to eat. He barely moved. He was never going to get better. It was time to let him go.
It was with a heavy heart that I made that final decision, but one that I know had to be made. As much as I hated the idea of letting Jake go, I couldn’t watch my little guy suffer. So at 6:15 on Tuesday night I said my final goodbyes as the vet helped him painlessly cross over to the other side.
For 14 years Jake was by my side, my closest friend, my truest confidante. I will miss him sorely. I miss him now.
Rest well, my friend. Rest well.