TayCote's Jack Of Hearts
"Jack"

June 26, 2000 - December 16, 2000

IN LOVING MEMORY OF JACK
By Tracy Cottle

On a dark and stormy night the birth of little Jack started his story. He was one of six tri-color male puppies, the first litter I had ever bred. Jack was one of the prettiest of the litter, but silly me decided I would grow out the two biggest boys. with every day and every experience Jack and his brothers grew and changed into sweet, lovable, beautiful shelties. I was so proud and showed off my pictures to everyone who would look. It became very apparent to me that Jack was the most beautiful of the litter. His size was near perfect and his temperament was outgoing yet reserved toward strangers and things. He had all I could ask for in a sheltie, but I was just sure the other two would be right for me. As time passed and the puppies grew, more and more people asked about Jack and I started to wonder if I had made the wrong choice. Yes, I had, being a beginner. The two biggest puppies were going over in size, so without much thought at all I decided to keep little Jack and see how he would mature out. Granted, all shelties have their faults, but Jack made up for his with abundant personality and love to share with all.

After selling the last of the puppies Jack was the center of attention. I could have sold Jack ten times over with all the people who begged to buy him. This made me feel good inside and Jack seemed to glow, knowing it too. He was the happiest puppy and loved to play with my two children. He lived to play outside with his mother and my other two dogs; he even became like a kid to my newest female, 'Bell,' who had never whelped, yet she tenderly washed him and played with him daily. I felt so lucky to have such a wonderful dog and was looking forward to showing him in the winter and spring of his first year.

Now, Jack loved his voice and I worked with him daily on NO BARK. Outside he could bark his head off and I didn't care, but inside was a different thing. I decided to have him debarked, not what I considered a major surgery or risky at the time. All that changed when I got a call from the vet that Jack was not waking from the surgery. My heart sank into my stomach and I was almost in tears, but I knew that sometimes dogs have trouble and come around shortly. I waited until the next call when the vet said Jack was like in a coma and the vet would take him home that night to watch over him.

I did not sleep well that night and first thing in the morning I called to see how Jack was doing, to make sure he had made it through the night. Thank goodness he had, but he was not improving much so I went to the vet clinic and requested to take him home. My only thought was, "If he is going to die, he is going to die at home." Apparently Jack had stopped breathing on the table and had suffered some brain damage.

I took Jack to another vet clinic for a second opinion, and they went to work on getting my boy back to health (Jack was in perfect health when he went in for the surgery). After some tests and lots of medication and TLC, I was able to pick Jack up and take him home. I could not stop crying when I picked him up, and he was so happy to "see" me again, he was beside himself. Jack was awake and could hear my voice and smell me, but Jack was blind. At the time I was just happy to have my baby back. Jack had suffered enough damage he couldn't walk or hold his own weight, but he had other good health signs. Time was all we had at the moment.

Jack tried very hard to get better and every day I saw improvements. But time was now against us. Jack's body was giving out and little Jack was beginning to lose what functions he had gained in the two weeks after surgery. I did not want to give up and pleaded with the vets to give me some hope, but all they could do was be honest and tell me Jack may not walk again, or see again, or even regain a normal life. Now the hardest part of loving something as much as I loved Jack, was letting him go. It took all I had to bundle little Jack up and take him to the vet that last day. I was so sad, angry and sorry that I had put him through this. I know I could never have predicted or prevented it, but I felt so guilty and asked Jack to forgive me for my selfishness. I held him in my arms until his little light went out.

I miss him so much it hurts and somewhere in my heart I must forgive myself for this. I will never forget little Jack, and have gone to great lengths to save every part of him I could find. The one thing that will help Jack live on is tell his story to all so they can also remember him as I do.

Jack was not going to be a champion or ROM, but he was and is the most special dog I have ever had. He loved greater than anyone I know, and he gave me what I needed most, happiness.

My story is not a happy one, or flowery, or full of excitement, but a true story of one little special dog that died unnecessarily. My hope in telling this story is that Jack will live on and others will take all precautions when working with these precious little guys. Life sometimes is too short to worry about the little things. Do as Jack did and live day to day. Love with your heart and share happiness with everyone you meet.

Thank you for allowing me to share Jack with you.

Sincerely, Tracy

"Bentley"

January 20, 1995 - December 16, 2000

Letter to Bentley at the Bridge:

In a few days we would have celebrated your sixth birthday. This would have been a special day for all of us and include special treats for you. Unfortunately, your special day will be one of sadness filled with your memories for us.

Yesterday we lost the last physical reminders of you. Mother Nature melted the snow in the backyard including your last footprints. We also cleaned up your things in preparation of bringing two little puppies into our life. Although they will be so cute and lively, they will not replace you. Your loving patience and friendship for all of us will always be in our hearts. Our two little furbabies will provide only new memories, not replace yours.

By now you have met Griffin and Reb, who are also waiting for us at the Rainbow Bridge. We hope you remember your love for us and overcome your shyness so you can enjoy their company. The three of you can compare stories about how each of you ruled over the backyard.

We have also asked the Gatekeeper to send a little sheltie named Angel to meet us at the Rainbow Bridge. Even though we only met her twice, she was kind enough to give us two sheltie sisters. We are sad that she will have no one with whom to cross the Bridge and know you will share a little of us with her. So please watch out for her and make her welcome.

Eventually all of us will join you, we look forward to meeting up with you again and crossing the Bridge together. Since we will be meeting again we will not say good-bye, so goodnight old friend and enjoy the peace.

Mike, Cindy and Dad

"Josie"

Recently, our sheltie, Josie, had to be put down. We had her for 8 wonderful years and she was loved very much. Unfortunately, she developed an autoimmune disease and although we tried to save her and she fought to live valiantly, congestive heart failure set in and she was in such distress we decided to do what was best for her and end her suffering.

We bought Josie in September of 1992, and fell in love immediately. She was very smart and was housebroken in record time! She loved to play soccer and go for rides in the car. Every Sunday when my husband would get his keys out she would "sing" to him; she wanted to go get the paper. For awhile we were having the paper delivered, to save us time, and boy was she  disappointed! As I would put on my socks and shoes she would speak to me, I guess she wanted to get the paper; eventually we stopped having it delivered so she could go in the car.

We recently brought 3 kittens to live with us. Josie never understood that cats and dogs didn't get along! She wanted to play with all of them and they would just hiss at her and walk away; it was very funny! Anyhow we are now anxiously awaiting the birth of our new sheltie (we hope the mom is pregnant!) in March.

Loved and missed by Liz H.

Sonny

Sonny,

You left us so suddenly and so unexpectedly that we are a turmoil. We never had a chance to say good-bye, or to explain how much we love you, and what a hole you left in our lives. If you will allow me, I'll try to explain a little.

You were Mama's companion, and the love of her life. Wherever she went, you were there. That's one of the problems. She doesn't have that cold, wet nose to tell that the coffee maker is on and to get up. And after we're up, now we have to eat the crust off the toast, because you're not there to take it from us.

When she had cancer surgery, you were there to check everything out, and make sure that she was OK. Her surgeon told her to walk. She wouldn't listen to me if she didn't feel like walking - - but you would nag and nag and nag until she gave up, got dressed, and went for a walk. She probably owes you her life. When the chemo and radiation made her so cold, you crawled in bed with her and cuddled as close as you could to keep her warm. Something you never did before, and never since. You had to know what you were doing.

You knew exactly where our property lines were and never wandered out of them without our asking you to. Every night you would walk the perimeter of the property to make sure that all was well before going to bed.

We have asked the keeper of Rainbow Bridge to allow you a little toast crust in the morning and an empty mint ice cream dish to lick just before bedtime. I sure hope he does. Now - - We have one more thing to ask of you. When you left us, you took a very large part of two hearts with you. Please - - please take good care of them until the day that we meet at Rainbow Bridge to reclaim them, and we will be with you forever.

May you sleep well, and never, ever feel any pain again... and please, please wait for us at Rainbow Bridge.

With all our love,
Mama and Dad