Every day, WordPress emails me one writing prompt. Today’s writing prompt is:
Feature a Guest
When I was four, my parents thumped a big book of dog breeds in front of me: “You can choose any dog from here,” they said. I didn’t take long as I knew exactly what I wanted and decisively put my finger down on my favourite breed: the dachshund, aka a sausage dog.
My parents, thinking I would choose something a bit more pragmatic, immediately regretted this decision, as my heart and soul were now set on receiving a podgy brown noodle. Fortunately, with some divine intervention, research, and heaps of luck, they managed to source two dachshunds called Milo and Jake. After nonchalantly asking me which was my favourite male Tweenie, on Christmas Day, I ran into the living room and was greeted with Jake. Jakey. Shakey-Jakes.
I clearly remember those few moments. The tiny Weiner sat proudly in the middle of the room, lit by the cold early-morning sun that frosted through the sliding door. He was a short-haired, brown, miniature dachshund, with bright hazel eyes and a gaunt face. He then whined and worriedly sniffed around the room, paying little attention to my brother and me shaking squeaky toys from afar and calling his name. We left Jakey alone for most of the day to get used to his surroundings. I recall worrying that he would never like me. The next day, however, he merrily bounded up to us and into our hearts.
Jake was a lively creature. When we returned home, he would run around and around the house until one of us lay on our belly so he could get a good sniff of our faces, inquisitively deciphering what adventures we had without him. On walks, he blithely plodded along at a brisk, steady pace, paying no mind to his surroundings, instead focussing on the path ahead. I adored him; he was the best dog in the universe. In an imaginary world my brother and I coined, everyone was given a number to how great and awesome and spectacular they were. I was Number 1, of course, being the oldest, and my brother Number 2. Jakey was Number 0: superior to all of us mortals.
Jakey did have a small dark side to him, one which I learnt the hard way. One day, I found him digging through a bin-bag, trying to get to some tasty morsel. I instinctively grabbed his behind and gently tried to pull him back. It was a blur, and the next minute, I was sat on my behind dazed, with a graze and a bite-mark on my shin. My parents scolded him profusely, but it became an unspoken rule in our house to never touch Jakey while he ate.
Minus that devilish streak, though, Jakey was as good as gold. He was an avid fetch player and a big fan of ear scratches. One of his favourite activities was picking one part of someone’s foot and licking it raw. Some may find it disgusting; the boys in the family happily accepted this term of endearment. Sometimes, I would lay on my back and put him on my belly, letting him survey the room from his new perch.
A few years later, my parents decided to try the old “pick a dog out the book” trick with my brother, seeing as it worked so well the first time. They were fooled twice as he also chose a dachshund.
Again, with divine intervention, research, and heaps of luck, they found a female, black, short-haired, miniature dachshund, similarly named after a Tweenie: Fizz.
Jakey was somewhat friendly with most dogs he met on walks, but living with one was an entirely different kettle of fish. Jake and Fizz usually had a cordial relationship but not without a few scraps. Fizz had a shorter temper than Jake and in one scuffle scratched just below Jakey’s left eye; he would have two small, black scars there for the rest of his life.
We ended up having to give up Fizzy to an older gentleman who we were sure gave Fizz a better home than we could – a quieter existence. Jakey remained in our household and was adored by visitors and us alike. Jakey was always a sweetheart to guests. He liked everyone.
We moved house later on to a much bigger garden, where Jake would leisurely explore the flowerbeds and undergrowths. He even lived harmoniously with two cats we later brought into the Vincent fold. His favourite spot was by the fireplace, and we would constantly fret that the spitting hot bits of ash and charcoal would scold him. He was somehow never hit, despite moving closer to the fire than anyone else dared.
Not everything was smooth-sailing in Jake’s life. One day, I threw a ball and Jakes ran into a hedge. He emerged with the ball in his mouth, dragging his two legs behind him. We immediately rushed him to a vet, where we were told Jakey had slipped a disk in his back that was pushing on his spinal cord. This happened two times in his life, with each one costing extensive operations, months of physiotherapy, and boring rehabilitation where he had to sit in a dog crate all day with us doting over him.
They were dark times, but Jakey always recovered the use of his back legs. It was somewhat comical to lay him on his back between your legs, having to cycle his back paws day after day to get him used to moving them again.
Of course, Jakey had numerous health problems as he got older. While he began ageing handsomely, greying on the chin and muzzle, his walking became stiff. His ears blocked with horrid, black stuff that made him itch and scratch all the time. His lean figure became fat as his little legs struggled to keep his chest from grazing the ground.
Then senility set in. He mindlessly roamed the house, looking more and more confused with each room he visited. He began sleeping more and losing control of his bladder. Eventually, mid-2016, at the ripe old age of 16, we made the hard decision to put Jakes down.
My mum has forever been sore on this point, thinking it was too soon, blaming herself. Before I went to university, I spent three years working at a veterinary practice, and I know what holding it off looks like. Pets come in with matted fur, glazed eyes, stinking and shaking and decrepit. It’s hard to say goodbye, but you’re doing them a favour making that choice. Keeping them hanging on makes them lose their personalities. They will thank you for letting them go.
We all came in to say goodbye to Jakey. Weirdly enough, despite being terrified of the vet, he didn’t seem afraid this time. He happily sat on the table, as we gave him pieces of cheese (his favourite snack), with the vet sneaking him a Maryland chocolate chip cookie. He passed away, gorging himself on his favourite foods – happy.
We had Jakey cremated. He didn’t like the cold, and I didn’t want him buried outside in a forgotten grave. He sits in the living room now, on top of a towering bookshelf. I think he’d like to be tall for a change, looking down on us after a life spent looking up.
I miss you, Jakes. You’re still the best dog in the universe.
[36 minutes]
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