Since Riley's death earlier this summer, the question I'm most often asked is "How is Jake?" And since June, my answer has been, "He's still looking for him." Jake would spend the better part of every night in search of Riley. Upstairs, downstairs, inside, outside...it was exhausting for those of us letting him in and out—especially at 3:00 in the morning, but we obliged because we understood his pain. His loss was our loss. Only difference was that we couldn't explain to Jake where Riley had gone. Why his brother had suddenly disappeared from his world. So, this morning when Jake passed somewhat unexpectedly, our only solace was in thinking that perhaps he finally understood where Riley had gone; because he was there too and they were together again.
As most of you know, Jake suffered from a heart tumor. We knew he wouldn't live the duration of his years, but losing him just two months after Riley has been extremely difficult. Jake had a baby face, so it was hard to think of him as old. To us, he always looked like a puppy and acted like one too. And, after recently dropping 30 pounds, he seemed to be at the top of his game. Unfortunately, this weekend his breathing became labored and his kidneys began to shut down. At 4 A.M. the situation seemed dire, so John rushed him to the emergency animal clinic in Poughkeepsie. While they were running tests, John left for a bit to shower and regroup. At 7 A.M. they called to say that Jake had less than an hour and we should return. We grabbed the kids and made it there just in time to see Jake take his last breaths.
We have spent the day reminiscing about bringing Jake home in December of 2001 and all that happened after. We laughed about how Riley started out entirely offended by this rambunctious brindle puppy and ended up being his best friend and protector. How, the boys used Jake as a stool to sit on while they colored at the coffee table. How, Jake would greet us at the top of steps every single day with a gift. The gift was anything he could find on the fly (i.e. water bottle, tennis ball, matchbox car, dirty sock, etc.) that would fit in his mouth. He'd follow you around with that day's gift until you gratefully took it out of his mouth. We recalled how listening to Jake breathe from across the room was as comforting as a lullaby.
It's hard to believe that we are a dogless family for the first time in 10 years! No dog beds to trip over, no slobber on the walls, no fur balls under the beds, no half-eaten treats underfoot...the house has never felt emptier.
Goodnight, Riley & Jake. We are hopeful that you are lying side by side in heaven tonight. Our home and hearts will never be the same. Sleep well and know that we love you always!
