FAIRWELL

Frank, Zoe, Parker and I said goodbye to our dear friend Jake, yesterday. What a sad day for all of us. The world is a lesser place without this noble dog, but it was time for him to be released. This was our final act, in his lifetime, of caring for him.   He was full of energy, regal, handsome, strong and a great game dog ready to play at a moments notice with other 2 and 4 legged creatures.
During his life he accumulated a lot of friends. They could be absent from his life for many years, but the moment they got within his range of smell, he would bury his big old head in between their thighs and his whole body would wag head to toe. It was always the same, "where have you been, why have you been gone so long, I missed you so much". There are many of you reading this that will know that you held an extra special place in Jake's life and that when you would go away after a visit, he would lay about for a few days in the room you had occupied waiting for you to return. That was the thing with Jake, he loved his people. It was a misnomer for Frank and I to have called Jake our dog, really we were his people.
Notorious for his love of thrown objects whether round or otherwise, he could play fetch until he dropped. If no object was forthcoming, like a ball, off he would go to find the perfect object to entice the would be thrower into a game. That could be a stick, or an ear of corn picked from the stalks in the field and sometimes in desperation to get the wanted response, he would climb the apple or pear tree and reach for a fruit to bring back. Each time he would trot over drop the object at the foot of the perspective player, cock his head to the side and with anticipation alternate between looking at the object and then looking up to the human.
He learned to swim on the lake in our back yard in Michigan, and swimming became his passion second only to a good ball game. Best of all was a ball game combined with a swim. His travels took him to the Chester River here on the farm, and dodging the surf at Assategue Beach. He ventured as far as the waters of Lake Powell in Arizona, where he was sure it was his duty to protect the children left to play in the water by the house boat by the careless adults on board. His need to rescue them from drowning started when Zoe was a young pup. He ran to Frank and I with an insistent bark, relentless until we got up and discovered that she had fallen into the fish pond and was unable to swim and helpless to extricate herself.
His last years have been a struggle for him, but we got past his illnesses and he rallied each time a little diminished, but still strong of will and heart, determined not to let the problems get in the way of a walk, game, swim, or a good time with old friends. He saw the new pup Parker as a great gaming partner, up to a point. Somehow Parker always sensed what that point was. Zoe remained his good friend to the end. He lost most of his sight, but still managed to navigate the world he lived in, his world went almost silent from hearing loss, but with enough vocalizations from Zoe and Parker he could muster a pretty plausible bark to ward off strangers. All of his losses accelerated in the end and tasks of living were increasingly a chore. The hardest loss was his inablitity to play ball, hard for him and for Frank and I to witness.
Jake and I have run and walked too many miles together to count. From the day I bundled him up in California and started our trip back home to Frank in Michigan he has been my constant companion and friend. He has never been to far from my side for long and certainly never out of my mind. He was a great friend of Frank as well, he learned early on, the phrase "where's Frank", which would send Jake bounding off to find him. They had their days on the farm, when Jake would stay with him in the fields as Frank worked on some farm project, never leaving, hoping that somewhere in the day there would be time for a game of toss.
Frank and I will grieve long and hard for his loss and I am sure neither of us will ever truly get over not having him with us. The house has fallen silent, and feels so very empty. Jake's story will live in the memories all of us have of him. Those stories will remind us of moments in our lives when he was beside us doing something wonderful, fun or plain neurotic, and know that he was entwined in our story as well.
            Goodbye my lovely, lovely, best boy Jake.
                    May 16, 1998- January 19, 2013