Tucker 01SEP10 – 06JAN14

Tucker readingEventually there may be one more post for Tucker, when Jack is ready to write it. Until then, here are the posts Jack wrote during the four brief years that Tucker kept him busy with afternoon walks, finally collected in chronological order.

Likewise, I am working on uploading images, but find it difficult to work in the oldest or the newest folders. Here are the first set, from the ‘bonus’ trip to the beach, made possible by modern veterinary science and Tucker’s own courage overcoming amputation. http://shasta.smugmug.com/Animals/Tucker/37153178_k3Zqh4

We know Tucker touched many, many people. He was a special dog far beyond our own love for him, and we were lucky he was with us. Please do respect our copyrights. If you would like to use a picture or excerpt, please ask us.

– Shasta

Hallmark moment

So NSTIW (any military vet knows this acronym), standing in line at the Walgreens up at the corner in North City. It’s walking distance from our shotgun shack — not a “shotgun shack” in the N’Orleans sense that you could fire a shotgun from one end to the other, but in the Pacific NW sense … [more]

No buddy’s puppy

They’re some of the biggest dogs in the world. Pretty Wife has wanted one for 20 years, but it’s never been the right time. It’s still not the right time, but what could it hurt to look? The Craigslist picture was unprepossessing — a sad puppy with a blotchy gray coat stood staring dull-eyed at … [more]

Rain Dog

Someone told me I should go take a walk. It was as good a suggestion as any, and the dog always appreciates it. The ides of March competed with my oversized puppy for Pissing All Over the Alley honors. Hunching along, mumbling at the grey rain, I wished I’d had the forethought to bring along … [more]

Something is rotten in Danemark

A low rumble issued from the house as I stumbled up our brick-laid path, interrupting the wet sounds of a loose, flopping jaw tearing clumsily at fresh meat. Inside, I could sense its presence evaluating me. With the house lights off and no illumination save for the guttering of a tea light in the jack … [more]

The doggie loves me…

… or he wouldn’t have gone. Tucker hates riding in the car. It takes him a mile or two just to stop shaking like a meth-sizzled Chihuahua, then he settles into whistling and drooling his discontent with motorized transport. Stands to reason, I suppose. His first experience of automobiles was getting stuffed into the back … [more]

Band Aid

If you’re new around here, you may want to read this first: http://www.jaxworx.com/musings/rain-dog/ Context is where you find it, but sometimes a guide is useful.     Twenty-two years ago, I bought a black armband. It was a ridiculous frilly thing, a garter actually. Every 17th of January, I wore it above my left elbow. People … [more]

Nut ‘n’ Honey

“Wanna walk up to the post office with me?” “No. I hate walking to get mail. It takes like forty minutes, and nothing gets done,” Pretty Wife said. “It makes me crazy.” “OK.” Couldn’t blame the lass. I tore a little cartilage in my right knee about a month ago, playing at Aikido with people … [more]

No one ever buys a dog

…nor do you get one as a gift. Dogs aren’t slaves or property. You earn dogs, the way you earn children: by cleaning up their poo; by never giving up on them; by firm corrections; by loving forgiveness when you know damn well they knew better; by playing with them anyway when you’re just too … [more]

Remission Rates & Dog Rebates

I’m almost afraid to post this. One year before the day before Halloween 2013, Tucker Dog had his leg taken off due to cancer. In medical terminology, he was “disarticulated at the hip,” which is just as horrifying and brutal as it sounds. He came home on Halloween night shaking with terror, crawled up on … [more]

Regarding Tucker

The hole stands at four feet long, three across, three feet deep. It’s not done yet. Today I sawed apart the wind-tipped apple tree, pulled the stump, and got started. Tomorrow, I’ll shovel more dirt out of the hole. I’m well into the clay layer now, and the sides are holding up proudly. As for … [more]

The Living Season

My mother, who’s paid her dues in the nursing home – so far, thank G-D, not as a patient – calls January “the dying season.” Mom’s not a cynical woman. She is, in fact, a spectacular woman. She’s also a realist. Many of her post-adult charges held on to life just long enough to spend … [more]

Light One Candle

I don’t know his name and never will. That candle is hard for me to label, and even harder to light. May his memory, tough though that is, be for a blessing.

Darkly Dawns the Solstice

A couple of years later, I left the careful silence of our never-home apartment to spend my birthday alone, sleeping rough under a ’58 Willys in the company of my good dog Junior and a dented bourbon flask.