It's Been A Year

For some reason, writing really helps me deal with shit.  You'd think, given the kind of month I've had, that my blog would be blowing up but sometimes there's just too much shit to process enough to write.

This, however, is something manageable.

It's been a year since Jax's last day on Earth with us.  I miss him terribly!  I don't cry for him every day anymore but I'd be lying if I said my heart doesn't ache when I think about him for more than ten seconds at a time.  

So, in honor of his life, which was far too short, I am going to tell some Jax stories to keep his memory alive.  I love him so much and I miss him even more.

"Gotcha Day"
Jax came home on May 17, 2013.  It was a Friday.  He came from Michigan and he was exactly 8 weeks and 1 day old.  He was tiny!  Only weighed 4 pounds!  Like when Abigail came, my mom and I went to the airport to collect him since Corky was at work.  But the similarities stopped there.

When we went to pick up Abby, we walked into the cargo office and it was quiet.  I actually had to ask where she was because I couldn't see her.  With Jax, however, we walked in and it was extremely apparent where he was.  He was in his kennel screaming.  Poor little guy!  He was so scared!  The woman behind the counter was at her wits end, apparently, and rushed me through the paperwork.  When all was signed and done, she looked at me and said, "please take him now!"

I hoisted his travel kennel and we went out to the car.  I immediately opened the door and scooped him out, this little tiny, beige ball of wrinkles.  He clawed at my shirt and chewed on my necklace.  He licked my face and pushed his little wet nose into my chin.  His little arms and paws scrabbled at my chest, trying to climb into me.  After a few minutes, he fell sound asleep on me and slept all the way home.

I named him Jax McGee and he was my love.  My second baby.  My buddy.  My son-shine.

Moving Day

In August of 2015, we moved.  I titled this memory "Moving Day" although actually this took place before the actual moving day.  Nevertheless it's one of my favorite memories of Jaxxie.

The house we moved out of had 3 stories.  One evening, Corky and I were up on the 3rd floor (it was this big bonus room) watching TV with the dogs after Mara was in bed for the night.  Abby was laying on the big couch, like the princess she is, and Jax was sprawled on the floor.  Corky and I were packing up boxes.  Finally, when we'd packed up most everything we could, we starting taking boxes down to the garage where we were keeping them until moving day.  

So this is how it went for the next half hour:  Up and down and up and down the flights of stairs, from the 3rd floor to the garage and back and back, went Corky first, carrying a box, then me, carrying a box, and then Jax, running along behind.  He loved us so much that he couldn't stand to be away from us.  Abby, on the other hand, was fine to lounge around on the couch while we all caravanned up and down the stairs.  But Jax wanted to be right there.  He was always on my six, always my shadow.  Our two-person-one-frenchie parade went up and down and up and down until all the boxes were in the garage.  

Getting a Drink

Another one from that same house.  Our TV and couch were up in the 3rd floor bonus room and after Mara would go to bed at night, Corky and I would sometimes hang out up there and watch a TV show.  The dogs would typically hang out with us.

One evening, we were watching something, and Abby and Jaxxie were curled up on the couch with us.  All of a sudden, Jax roused himself, shook, stretched and disappeared down the stairs.  We looked at each other, bewildered, but let him go.  After all, it's not like he was a puppy anymore so we decided to trust him.

A few minutes later, he came back upstairs, licking water off his chops.  I started laughing.  It was so unbelievably cute to me to imagine that Jax had been asleep on the couch, woken up and realized he was thirsty, gotten up off the couch, went all the way downstairs to the first floor to get a drink, and came all the way back up.  It was such a human thing to do that I couldn't stop laughing.  

When I finally stopped laughing and told Corky what was so funny, his comment was, "all that for a dog getting a drink!"

I miss my buddy boy.  I miss him terribly!  Even though now I have Frankie to help heal the wound, it's still there.  I still miss him.  I'll always miss him.  The fact that he was so young when he died just adds to the tragic nature of it.  Losing a pet at any age, for any reason, is hard.  To have them taken so suddenly, with almost no warning, just makes reconciling it even harder.  I'll never forget him.  I'll never stop loving him.  I have him tattooed on my leg because he was that important to me.  I love Frank but he's not Jax.  I never got him to replace Jax, I know that's not possible.  Frank does help, though.  The similarities between him and Jaxxie are sometimes freaky.  Different breed, of course, but if they were the same I'd believe they were brothers.  Currently, as I type this, Frank is trying to dig into the couch cushions, which I'd better stop him from doing before he's successful because I really don't have the money to replace a couch, LOL!  Thank you, everyone, for loving Jaxxie too.  His memory won't fade because so many people remember him.  He was a gem. xoxo