(no subject)
Jake
Spring, 1996 - June 19th, 2007
he'd stopped eating, and couldn't really walk around anymore. my parents took him to the vet this afternoon to be put to sleep
this is just stuff that was on my computer now - I'll have to look around for more
with his arch-nemesis
looking kind of loopy
chillin' in a beanbag chair on Halloween
cuddling with baby Pippin
I don't know what happened to the larger version of this
somewhere, maybe at my grandma's, there's a great shot of him bounding towards the camera. it really captures his personality well
done in 10th or 11th grade, I forget which
- we got him on our way home from celebrating my paternal grandmother's 70th birthday. we picked him up at North Shore Animal League, and was told that he had "contact" with Parvo-infected dogs but was perfectly fine himself. it took maybe a week, two weeks for him to start showing symptoms, and me, Ryan and mom were in North Carolina for most of it. my dad was working in one nursery or another at the time, and took baby Jake to work with him everyday, feeding him milk and taking care of him. the dog we returned to was nothing at all like the sickly puppy we'd left - we kept joking that the dog had died and my dad replaced him
- he was incredibly protective. overly, most of the time - he was dead sure our neighbors across the street were up to something and would alert us to their every movement. when my parents were gone, he'd lay in the hall inbetween my room and Ryan's to keep an eye on us. when any not-ready-for-outside kittens got loose, he would step on them and pin them down until someone could put them back in the house (and he could pick up on when it was ok for them to be out - once they were allowed out, he let them go about their cat business. he even stepped on Pippin after her running-away episodes). he had a lot of German shepard in him, which probably accounts for his herding instincts - there was one party we had in the yard held under a tent because of rain, and everytime my at-that-time toddler-age neighbor wandered out from under it, he would push her back in. in general, he was good with kids, although a bit too big for them sometimes
- he came into a house with cats (Max and Maybelline at the time), so was always deferential towards them, and mostly he got along very well with them, except when Merry would unleash her inexplicable wrath. the tiny hissing ball of fluff terrified him, and he remained freaked out by her crazy ass from them on. he wouldn't move them from his bed himself, but he'd come in whimpering and looking meaningfully at the room with his bed (although if they came in once he was there, he was perfectly willing to share with them)
- he put up with far too much wearing-people-clothes antics from me and Ryan. somewhere I have a picture of him wearing Ryan's whole Cub Scout uniform
- he loved wet, freshly-washed hair ... mine and my dad's in particular. he would bury his nose in it and try to wrap it around his snout. this was known as "fishheading", because according to my mom it was very like how her dogs used to react to old fishheads her dad would throw out
- he also loved "biting" the water that came out of the hose, but for some reason absolutely abhorred baths
- he escaped all the time as a puppy/young dog, and it was a regular thing on our block to have a herd of people chasing after him
- the one time we brought him over someone's house with a dog, he was very unhappy about it (well, that dog was also unneutered and making unwanted advances ...) but he's been friends with several dogs in the house behind ours, running along the fence with them or just sitting and sniffing. for the last week or so, their dog has been standing outside looking for him. sorry, Max
- the only trick we ever really taught him was "sit". if you don't count Ryan's "trick", which was putting his shirt over the dog's head until he wriggled out. that's not much of a trick. he got the "go and get it" part of "fetch", but not so much the "now give it back" part
- he had thick, coarse fur down his back ("quills") that would stick straight up in a mohawk when he was excited. razorback dog
- he had a very pronounced sagittal crest, which is the ridge of bone in the middle of the top of dogs' heads. according to our vet, this is the "lump of wisdom" and spoke highly of his intelligence. the running theory was that that bit of bone house his entire brain
- when the movie "Babe" came out, McDonald's included stuffed farm animals in the happy meals which became Jake's chewtoys. he had a basket of little stuffed pigs for quite awhile. if they were whole, he wouldn't tear them, but if any stuffing came out there'd be pits of faux pig all over the floor. one also got caught in the lawnmower and exploded stuffing across the yard
- bees nested in the concrete patio at my grandmother's, and Jake used to stand by the opening and snap up bees as they came out like it was his own personal vending machine. so, in theory, we could've guarded our house with a dog with bees in his mouth and when he barks he shoots bees at you - but by then I think they'd be well along the digestive process
- stairs baffled him for the longest time - our house was single-story for the first 5 years of so of his life, and he had a hard time understanding how to work them. he had to be carried down when we lived in my grandma's basement, he never even attempted to get into my loft. when my dad and the contractor working on our house were trying to coax him up the stairs, he only responded to the Polish instructions. even once he grasped stairs, he still tended to barge into people that were in his way
- the kennel completely freaked his shit out - he didn't sleep for a whole weekend, and when we got back, fell asleep so deeply that not even the sinister kid across the street coming to the door would wake him
- he didn't like eating gummi things per se, but he loved tossing them around the room and barking at them. a gummi bear could keep him occupied for hours
- he took every opportunity that came his way to have a forbidden nap on one of the couches or someone's bed. apparently when I was in North Carolina last summer, he spent the whole time on mine
- his death was the only thing that's made my father cry in front of me
I miss him, but I'm glad he's not in pain anymore
Spring, 1996 - June 19th, 2007
he'd stopped eating, and couldn't really walk around anymore. my parents took him to the vet this afternoon to be put to sleep
this is just stuff that was on my computer now - I'll have to look around for more
with his arch-nemesis
looking kind of loopy
chillin' in a beanbag chair on Halloween
cuddling with baby Pippin
I don't know what happened to the larger version of this
somewhere, maybe at my grandma's, there's a great shot of him bounding towards the camera. it really captures his personality well
done in 10th or 11th grade, I forget which
- we got him on our way home from celebrating my paternal grandmother's 70th birthday. we picked him up at North Shore Animal League, and was told that he had "contact" with Parvo-infected dogs but was perfectly fine himself. it took maybe a week, two weeks for him to start showing symptoms, and me, Ryan and mom were in North Carolina for most of it. my dad was working in one nursery or another at the time, and took baby Jake to work with him everyday, feeding him milk and taking care of him. the dog we returned to was nothing at all like the sickly puppy we'd left - we kept joking that the dog had died and my dad replaced him
- he was incredibly protective. overly, most of the time - he was dead sure our neighbors across the street were up to something and would alert us to their every movement. when my parents were gone, he'd lay in the hall inbetween my room and Ryan's to keep an eye on us. when any not-ready-for-outside kittens got loose, he would step on them and pin them down until someone could put them back in the house (and he could pick up on when it was ok for them to be out - once they were allowed out, he let them go about their cat business. he even stepped on Pippin after her running-away episodes). he had a lot of German shepard in him, which probably accounts for his herding instincts - there was one party we had in the yard held under a tent because of rain, and everytime my at-that-time toddler-age neighbor wandered out from under it, he would push her back in. in general, he was good with kids, although a bit too big for them sometimes
- he came into a house with cats (Max and Maybelline at the time), so was always deferential towards them, and mostly he got along very well with them, except when Merry would unleash her inexplicable wrath. the tiny hissing ball of fluff terrified him, and he remained freaked out by her crazy ass from them on. he wouldn't move them from his bed himself, but he'd come in whimpering and looking meaningfully at the room with his bed (although if they came in once he was there, he was perfectly willing to share with them)
- he put up with far too much wearing-people-clothes antics from me and Ryan. somewhere I have a picture of him wearing Ryan's whole Cub Scout uniform
- he loved wet, freshly-washed hair ... mine and my dad's in particular. he would bury his nose in it and try to wrap it around his snout. this was known as "fishheading", because according to my mom it was very like how her dogs used to react to old fishheads her dad would throw out
- he also loved "biting" the water that came out of the hose, but for some reason absolutely abhorred baths
- he escaped all the time as a puppy/young dog, and it was a regular thing on our block to have a herd of people chasing after him
- the one time we brought him over someone's house with a dog, he was very unhappy about it (well, that dog was also unneutered and making unwanted advances ...) but he's been friends with several dogs in the house behind ours, running along the fence with them or just sitting and sniffing. for the last week or so, their dog has been standing outside looking for him. sorry, Max
- the only trick we ever really taught him was "sit". if you don't count Ryan's "trick", which was putting his shirt over the dog's head until he wriggled out. that's not much of a trick. he got the "go and get it" part of "fetch", but not so much the "now give it back" part
- he had thick, coarse fur down his back ("quills") that would stick straight up in a mohawk when he was excited. razorback dog
- he had a very pronounced sagittal crest, which is the ridge of bone in the middle of the top of dogs' heads. according to our vet, this is the "lump of wisdom" and spoke highly of his intelligence. the running theory was that that bit of bone house his entire brain
- when the movie "Babe" came out, McDonald's included stuffed farm animals in the happy meals which became Jake's chewtoys. he had a basket of little stuffed pigs for quite awhile. if they were whole, he wouldn't tear them, but if any stuffing came out there'd be pits of faux pig all over the floor. one also got caught in the lawnmower and exploded stuffing across the yard
- bees nested in the concrete patio at my grandmother's, and Jake used to stand by the opening and snap up bees as they came out like it was his own personal vending machine. so, in theory, we could've guarded our house with a dog with bees in his mouth and when he barks he shoots bees at you - but by then I think they'd be well along the digestive process
- stairs baffled him for the longest time - our house was single-story for the first 5 years of so of his life, and he had a hard time understanding how to work them. he had to be carried down when we lived in my grandma's basement, he never even attempted to get into my loft. when my dad and the contractor working on our house were trying to coax him up the stairs, he only responded to the Polish instructions. even once he grasped stairs, he still tended to barge into people that were in his way
- the kennel completely freaked his shit out - he didn't sleep for a whole weekend, and when we got back, fell asleep so deeply that not even the sinister kid across the street coming to the door would wake him
- he didn't like eating gummi things per se, but he loved tossing them around the room and barking at them. a gummi bear could keep him occupied for hours
- he took every opportunity that came his way to have a forbidden nap on one of the couches or someone's bed. apparently when I was in North Carolina last summer, he spent the whole time on mine
- his death was the only thing that's made my father cry in front of me
I miss him, but I'm glad he's not in pain anymore