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Jake the Bichon

March 21, 2000 – March 4, 2015

Today, I said goodbye to my dog, Jake. He was a few weeks shy of 15, and one of my closest friends. Like most dogs, Jake was the kind of person I wished I could be: patient, forgiving, and endlessly loving.

He’s been part of every major life event of my adult life. He was there when I graduated high school, and then college. He was there when I met the woman who became my wife. He was literally in the room when I proposed to her, and there to greet us when we came back from our honeymoon. He was there when my son was born, completely unphased by the midnight feedings, crying, and pulled fur.

When he was younger, he could escape any enclosure. He once broke out of a room blocked by two baby gates stacked one on top of the other. He loved chasing squirrels, cuddling, and eating tissues—sometimes directly out of your hand. He was the best vacuum I’ve ever had.

Jake preferred the company of humans to other dogs. He was the opposite of loyal. He would go with anyone who was willing to cuddle and pet him. He was my little shadow, following me from room to room, curled up beside my desk while I worked.

Goodbye, friend.

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