Written by anonymous   (April, 2008)

  My head was in a flurry of emotion. Tears streaming down my face. Jake was barely responding.




           It was late November, in the autumn of 2007. One of my best friends, Jake, my Chesapeake Bay Retriever had not been his usual self. He had been lying around for a few days; I didnít think anything of it until my dad said something, that was day four. I had no idea what was wrong, but we new he was sick. It was a Saturday, and Dr. Lentz, the vet was out of town.  Jake was out in the barn, in the straw near a ladder that I was sitting under. I stayed by him, worried, crying, hoping for him to be okay. I just couldnít lose him, too. (Our other dog, Millie had died about a month and a half before this incident.) We searched all over trying to find someone to check him out. We ended up going to Lake Area Vet clinic in Watertown.

So my dad and I loaded up Jake. He was so weak. Jake road in the backseat of the pickup, and my dad and I in the front seat. We put an old afghan blanket on the seat to protect it.  It seemed like forever to get to the vet clinic. We saw the vet, and then we waited, and waited, it seemed like we werenít doing anything constructive. I didnít care about anything else; I just wanted Jake to be okay. I felt so sick to my stomach with worry. Jake seemed a little better now, he had to sniff everything in that clinic; I am sure it took all of his strength. They took blood tests and we impatiently waited for the results. When they did come, they were not good. It appeared that somehow Jake had been poisoned. We talked the results over with the vet, and he prescribed some medication. We talked about considering a blood transfusion, on Monday. We were on our way home, and things were looking slightly up; Jake was looking out the window and was alert.

When we got home we brought Jake and that afghan into the house and he just lay around. Trying to get him to eat seemed hopeless; not a good sign. It was hard giving him the pills, my dad had to shove it down his throat. I couldnít bear to watch. I tried to somewhat get my mind off of him and stop worrying, but I was dreading nighttime. When it finally was nighttime I never wanted to leave his side. I slept on the couch and my mom and dad told me they would wake me up if need be. I prayed and hoped and wished, but that was all I could do. Jake didnít make it to midnight that night.

I cried and cried, I couldnít believe he was gone. Regrets poured into my head; Why didnít I play with him more? Why didnít we go on more walks? The horrible fact was I could never do any of these things with him ever again, and I could never see his cute lovable face looking up at me. Iíd never be able to pet him again. I just kept wondering why and how this could happen to me, to my family. I was mad, mad at God. Jake was supposed to be okay, and now he would never be. It seemed like he had been fine, and now all of the sudden he was gone.  

Dealing with the loss was hard, and I am still not quite over it five months later. When you watch one of your best friends die, it is more than emotional. I now have I new puppy, Gretta. A red and white Border Collie with a true heart. She is a ball of wildfire, but I love her dearly. All good things must come to an end, but at every end there is a new beginning: A new life.



Unanswered Questions

So how was Jake poisoned? Ė Rat poison in our barn, he had evidentially eaten one of the

 dead rats

What happened to the afghan? Ė I still have it in my room, and treasure it deeply.