06/04/2023
“I have sometimes thought of the final cause of dogs having such short lives and I am quite satisfied it is in compassion to the human race; for if we suffer so much in losing a dog after an acquaintance of ten or twelve years, what would it be if they were to live double that time?” -Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)
Chandler passed away peacefully, painlessly, and with dignity. He was fourteen.
Writing these words, I find it difficult to even begin to categorize and quantify someone’s life. Where does one even begin? Chandler was initially born “Ace” with a family in southwestern Florida. He was dropped off at the animal shelter at the age of two under the pretense that he fled out the front door and into the street given the opportunity. He has never done this since in the twelve years afterward, so I am not sure there was much truth to this story. Heather was searching for a dog to adopt, looked over to him, and threw a toy in his direction. He looked at it, smelled it, and walked in the other direction to sniff some grass—there was a dog with a suitable demeanor. Ace did not seem like much of an accurate moniker so he then became Chandler.
After the twelve years that followed, he lived in four different states and visited over eighteen states. He hiked through the Grand Canyon and the Painted Desert, snowy mountains outside of Lake Tahoe, the Utah desert, Louisiana swamps, forests across mid-Michigan, and all sorts of places in between. His favorite foods were cheese and milk, and his favorite toy was Lamb Chop. He went to an old Russian fort in northern California, the Salt Lake Tabernacle, the geographic center of the United States, the birthplace of Captain Kirk, Bourbon Street, and a variety of festivals, open-air concerts, and community events. The little guy had a lifetime's worth of adventures.
By all rights, he has had more than a few brushes with death. He had a handful of golf ball-sized seeds removed from his stomach. He was attacked by three aggressive dogs over the years, one off-leash dog hurt him so severely with lacerations to his stomach and groin he was bedridden for five days with a surgical drain to remove excess fluids. This is not to mention the numerous things a dog should not consume like an entire loaf of bread, a box of chocolates, Jell-O shots at gatherings, and other things I cannot even recall now. Because if there is one thing you can count on, it is the tenacity of a Jack Russell terrier.
But in the end, the passage of time was too much, even for him.
I firmly believe his first family dropping him off at the shelter caused psychological issues he carried for the rest of his life. That, and the breeder who cropped his tail entirely too short and did a poor job of removing his dew claws. He was mercurial, temperamental, grouchy, and stubborn. He would get scared of loud noises and people being overly excited. In some ways he reminded me of the old fable of the Hedgehog’s Dilemma, he really wanted to be close to people, but only on his terms, and God forbid if you would get too close such as any time you would move your legs when sleeping in the same bed as him.
But he was loving and patient when he needed to be. If you were dealing with physical ailments or feeling down in the dumps he would sit with you for hours on end. And he was fiercely protective of his adopted sister Phoebe. If ever she would bark in distress, he would immediately assess the situation regardless of whether it was the mailman or thunder or fireworks.
In his last half-year, his health drastically took a turn for the worse. This happened shortly after our daughter was born. I don’t mean to anthropomorphize, but it seemed like he was holding on for that moment. He quickly developed peripheral vestibular disease, and his heart and kidneys began to fail. Nevertheless, he still liked to sit in the backyard, patiently looking up at the squirrels and the birds and enjoying the feeling of the snow on his arthritic joints. One of his final moments was calmly licking baby’s fingers and face and just sitting with her for a while, soaking in the tranquility of the moment.
I’m fairly certain I won’t be adopting another Jack Russell terrier again as he set the benchmark and was enough for a lifetime. He will be buried with his favorite toy and blanket outside the tree in the backyard where he enjoyed looking up at the sky.
