JAX (CH Shadow Mtn Cracker Jax WPS CGC) March 7, 2001 to August 25, 2011.
Jax was one of those dogs that stays with you, even when he leaves the home he was born in. Jax moved to Southern California with Marcie and Rob Boyens and their kids (teenagers at that time). Marcie and Rob provided a WONDERFUL home for JAX and I know he was Marcie “heart dog”.
While Karen and I would see Jax through the years and talk to Marcie, we never realized how deeply this dog affect Beth Boyens. Beth wrote a blog found at http://elboyens.tumblr.com/post/9444459348/jax-a-eulogy-ya-know-jax-ive-had-quite-a-few
I have read a lot of goodbyes to great dogs, but this one captures the St Bernard and its relationship with humans as well as I have ever heard it express. Beth gave me permission to copy her writing here. I hope you take the time to read it and I am certain it will touch you as much as it did Karen and I.
Jax: A Eulogy
Ya know, Jax, I’ve had quite a few dogs die on me, but none of them affected me the way you did. I still remember you as a puppy. When your paws grew faster than the rest of you. You spent more time falling than you did actually running. Did you know that it was because of me that we even got you? I was the one who decided I liked St. Bernards and convinced my mom to buy one. That, by all rights, should have made me your favorite. I wasn’t. But you were mine.
You were always such a brat. That’s probably why I liked you so much. Remember when I took you to Starbucks? It was your first time in public. I was trying to break the horrible stereotype that the movie Beethoven had created, but you weren’t having it. Everyone you came in contact with got a lovely souvenir of your DNA. That drool thing only got worse as you got older. I swear you would look around the room to choose your next victim.
Then there was that phase with the squeaky toys. I was really hoping you’d grow out of that. I even had an intervention planned. I was so excited when the squeak died in that octopus of yours. I know you were devastated, but you stayed loyal. Even without the squeak, it was still your favorite toy.
Jax, did you know that St Bernards were bred to be rescue dogs? In the snow? That’s the white stuff that you didn’t really care for. Nope, no snow for you. You preferred to be laying in the sun in 100* heat. Usually on one of our lounge chairs.
Do you remember that barrel collar we bought you? I had always planned on throwing a party and filling that barrel with whiskey. I know, traditionally it was brandy, but I’m not really a brandy sort of girl. I wish I had done it…but I suppose it’s for the best, I don’t really know anyone who enjoys a whiskey-drool sour.
The thing I liked best about you, Jax, was that you were always so laid back. When Aleah and I had scary movie night and freaked out because of the random summer storm, you just laid there and ignored us. And no matter how loud we would make the tv, it never seemed to disturb your gentle snoring. You were always welcoming to the strays my mother would bring home. Even the litter of puppies Zoey had didn’t seem to bother you.
Of course in the back of my mind I always knew you were going to die. I just always assumed it would be from anorexia. Let’s face it, Jax, you were the supermodel of St Bernards. Always nibbling on your food before abandoning it to go lay in the sun. Probably working on your tan for the next photo shoot.
I’m not going to lie, even though it broke my heart, I got quite a few laughs when you started going deaf. I know, it sounds terrible. But if you could’ve seen how ridiculous your reactions were, you would’ve laughed too. The way you’d jump up and skitter around when someone touched you, even if they’d been standing next to you for over 5 minutes.
You made me laugh quite a bit at your expense. Your whine made me laugh the most. Oh, the way you would lay there and whine when no one was giving you attention. It was probably the most dramatic whine I’d ever heard. And I’ve known some dramatic people.
Yes, you were impish and goofy, still a playful puppy even at 9 human years, but you also had your sweet intuitive side. You were always there for me when I needed you the most. It’s amazing how comforting just hugging you could be. I wish that I could hug you one more time.
People generally miss their childhood dog the most, because they grew up with it. Well, Jax, I grew up with you. You were there for all of my 20s. I wonder what you thought of me, of how I changed. All the different weights, and hair colors, and boys. I wonder if you would just inwardly sigh every time I’d come home at 3 or 4 am and sneak, loudly, into the kitchen.
Christmas isn’t going to be the same without you and Zoey around. It won’t feel like Christmas without you two charging into the living room looking for your stockings. And, to be quite honest, Blue never looked as good as you in those reindeer antlers.
It’s weird to me that you’re gone. But that’s how these things go isn’t it? It always seems surreal at first and eventually you just numb yourself to it. Humans do it all the time, don’t they? I suppose that’s why love is so scary. Because you always lose what you love. Either to time, or to death, or to life.
I hope that there is a doggy heaven, with tons of squeaky toys and stuffed octopuses. I hope there are endless amounts of leather couches for you to wipe your drool on. I hope it’s sunny and over 100 degrees every day. I hope you and Zoey are there together. And I hope that my next dog is at least half as great as you were.