Saying Goodbye to My First "Baby"

Eight years ago, my husband and I moved into our first apartment together. It was also the first time I had lived outside my parents home. It was a hard time for me. Most young people are probably all about getting away from their parents and spreading their wings; I wasn't. I never wanted to leave.

Two months after we moved in together, I was still sad all the time. Our apartment was broken into and I was devastated. Not only did I feel separated from my support system but I also felt violated. It was then that we decided we needed a dog. 

We went to the animal shelter looking for a big dog, a lab, one that would "protect" us. While we did see many labs, there were only two dogs that caught our eye. One was a Jack Russell Terrier called "Danny", the other, was a small dog too, but I don't remember much about him. We were able to go into a "greeting area" to interact with the dog we were interested in. As soon as Danny was outside, he urinated 3 times and had 2 bowel movements. I was instantly sad because, in the shelter many of the dogs just went in the corners of their cage, but here he was holding everything in to keep his area clean. I knew then that I needed this dog. 

The next day we paid our fees and picked up Danny. The night before we had discussed changing his name to Lucky. We said he was lucky to have us, so Lucky became his name. The picture below was the day we brought him home.

Lucky was very timid at first and we were able to see signs that he had lived a life of abuse before us. Whenever we raised our voices, he would urinate. Whether we were raising our voices for happiness or out of frustration, the reaction was the same. This was something that we worked on by not raising our voice, not showing excitement when he came near. Eventually his urination stopped because he knew that we were safe to be with. 

If you know anything about Jack Rusells, they are one-owner dogs. That is not to say that they won't listen to other people, but they are very attached to one person. That person was me. Lucky was like my baby. I took him places with me, laid with him on the couch, and even let him sleep with me. He was my best friend and he came at a time when I needed him most. 

Lucky was a typical Jack Russell; full of energy and excitement. He also thought he was a lab. He could roll with the big dogs in my family and put them all in their place. He was definitely an alpha male. One of my favorite things to do was take him to my parents house, where they have land and say, "Run Lucky, Run!" He would run so fast; tuck his legs and run in circles. He loved to run. The picture below is Lucky and his Cousin Dog, Bailey. Bailey was just a pup and still bigger than Lucky.

We called him fatboy... not because he was fat, but because he looked beefy. People would often ask what breed he was because he was solid muscle (he's a shorty-jack russell) .

He was so receptive to the things that people would say. If you said any of his "choice" words, he would turn his head from side to side, ears up, and eyes wide. He would lick you when you came to the thing he wanted most. 

Lucky loved to eat; his absolute favorite thing was peanut butter. One morning I came downstairs to find he had eaten an entire box of peanut butter girl scout cookies! 

He was so smart; it only took one time to tell him something or show him something and he never forgot it. 

He always greeted us when we came home. When he was younger, he used to follow me from the front door, to the bathroom, then sit on my lap as I went to the bathroom and licked my face. 

He loved Chip (who I posted about a year ago when she died); he liked playing with other dogs, but he LOVED chip. I would say her name and he would go wild. 

He was really intuitive; he knew when I was pregnant with my son before I knew I was pregnant. I remember asking my husband, "What is wrong with this dog? Why won't he leave me alone?" He was always my protector. 

When my son was born, he started splitting his sleeping time between my bed and on the rug in my son's room. When my son got a toddler bed, he shared the bed with him at times. He was my son's protector too. 

Last spring when I had a miscarriage, it was Lucky who laid on the bathroom floor with me while I cried for hours. 

Tonight I will come home from work and take him to the vet to be put to sleep. He has cancer, and the tumors are now too much for him. He looks miserable, his breathing is labored and he just isn't happy like he used to be. My heart is broken. I don't know why I thought this dog would last forever, but I did, foolishly. I will have to say goodbye to my first baby today. 

I will come home from the vet and not be greeted by my friend. 

I will go to bed without him for the first time in 8 years. 

I will not be followed around the house, and comforted when I am sad. 

My life will never be the same. All because of a dog named Lucky, who I thought I was saving. In reality, I was the lucky one.