For pet names beginning with "J".

Jack, February 2003 - December 23, 2016

Jack -- our very special Labradoodle companion, passed on December 23, 2016. As recently as this past July, Jack was, despite his years, joyful in all of life. When we would travel with him to our lake home, he would patiently ride in the back. But when the car started to slow and turn as we meandered the county roads, he would lay his snout on my shoulder to look out the front. He knew the smells and sights of the Northwoods. And when we got there, he spent his time swimming in the lake or prancing through the snow.

When we were at home living "normal" life, Jack would wait for us to come home from work by the porch windows. As we turned into the drive, the first thing we always saw was his big, white head looking out of the windows. And when we finally reached the front door, he would be jumping so high in anticipation of his "lovin's". He didn't care where he was, just so long as he was with us.

And at night as we readied ourselves for bed, Jack would lay patiently on his bed until I climbed under the sheets. Then like a flash, he would be up on the bed between us, waiting for his ear rubs and snuggles.

This past summer of 2016, we found him lethargic and completely out of synch with his normal behavior. The vet clinic was wonderful and diagnosed him with Lyme's disease. He was treated with antibiotics and recovered quickly. But then in October, while I was away on a business trip, he collapsed outside. My wife took him to the vet clinic and he was found to have 3rd stage AV block. No cure. No treatment except a pacemaker. And because he was a large dog -- 85 pounds in his day -- they would have to implant through very invasive surgery instead of intravenously. Because of his age and the serious nature of the surgery and the long recovery, we opted to not compromise his remaining time and let him live out his days with the joy he had always had. The risk, sudden death.

This Friday of the Christmas weekend, we were wrapping Christmas caramels with Jack beside us in the kitchen. He was doing his usual low growl conversation that always lead me to let him out. I did so this time, too. He came back in and I gave him his treat. At the counter, we finished our wrapping of caramels, and I heard Jack give a little "yelp" like dogs often do while sleeping. But this was different. I got right down on the floor with his head in my arms, comforting him as best I could. Within less then a minute, he was gone.

I was prepared for the loss. Because of his age. Because of his heart condition. But I was not prepared for the grief, which I even now cannot assuage even in the slightest.

Jack was the smartest, most loving, and most generous pet I have ever owned or ever known. Because my wife and I are in our late 60's, we will not be getting another dog. And besides, we would unfairly compare our new pet to Jack.

So I want to let him go, to let him cross over that Rainbow Bridge.

Bye my friend, my buddy, my confidant. You will forever be in my heart. You will forever be missed. And I will see you someday again.

Jack, 03/07/15 - 09/07/16

Jack was 18 months old. We only had him 6 weeks. We found out a week ago he had metastatic lung cancer. He got sick very fast but out of the blue. We had to put him down today. Jack, we loved the first second we met you and will always love you. We miss your howling, playing, eating bones, growling at strangers who got near us. Jack was pitbull mix. He was a big Ole baby with the sweetest face ever. Jack, I know you are breathing good and running and playing in doggy heaven. Til we meet again. Gone, but never forgotten.

Jack the Yipper, 03/21/03 - 03/09/2016

Most loyal beautiful boy. I will miss you forever.

Jackie, 04/24/03 - 08/21/14

Jackie, our little Doodlephus. You were my pet soul-mate, there's not a day that goes by when I don't think of you with a loving heart. I miss you so much, but I know your spirit is with me. We are about to adopt a pair of kittens and I hope we are doing so with your blessings. They'll be new additions to the family, but never will they replace you, my sweet little fellow. I pray you're resting well, and I look forward to seeing you at the Rainbow Bridge one day. With all my love to you friend, Cindy

JARRAH, November 2008 - 26 Oct 16

Jarrah

My friend, my sanity, my calm amoungst the storms in my head. The goddess sent you to me and now its time for you to return. I love you so much my beautiful girl, you are taking a piece of my soul with you. I was so blessed to have you in my life for these 8 years, my your journey back to Gaia be swift.
Much loved, deeply missed.

Java, 04/12/2002 - 09/08/2016

What is the measure of a dog? Should they be brave, loyal, self-sacrificing, tenacious? Java encompassed all of these traits and many more. She came into our home a frisky energetic little terrier. She was named Java after the bouncing coffee beans she so resembled. She chose us…deliberately and decisively plopping herself down onto my son Max’s lap at the age of 6 weeks; she gave him a couple of quick licks before falling fast asleep. In spite of all of the rambunctious puppies around us, the decision had been made. And at 8 weeks of age, without so much as a cry or a whimper, Java entered our life and then began to rule it.
It was not easy for her as she was soon diagnosed with a heart murmur, followed by episodes of horrible seizures. She endured tests and surgery, but we could find no reason for these episodes, and could do nothing except provide treatment for the symptoms. Meanwhile, she had her job cut out for her. She had joined a household of four humans who were each, as broken as she was. Max was fast lapsing into a deep depression and closed himself off to the world while my oldest son struggled to understand an abusive father who no longer lived with us. My daughter was dealing not only with feelings of loneliness but with the betrayal and hurt caused by a co-worker who had assaulted her multiple times. And me, I was trying to manage a relationship with a manipulative cold-hearted man who cared for no one but himself. And so Java, our tenacious terrier, set to work fixing each and every one of us. She provided unconditional love to Max, support and courage to my daughter, and a sense of feisty-ness to my oldest son. And for me…she climbed inside, wrapped herself around my heart and never let go.
We were Java’s pack and it was clear to one and all, that she was the Alpha. Her pack grew smaller as the two older kids left the home, but larger when an abused Husky, by the name of Buddy was introduced as a possible candidate. Java took an immediate dislike to Buddy and made it quite clear that if she ever got the chance, Buddy would either be gone or not breathing. But as Buddy was so timid, Java accepted him into the pack, recognizing that he too was broken. And of course, she had to fix him as well. So one day she pushed and pushed, challenging him to stand up for himself. And when he finally did, you could see her wipe her paws together as if to say “my job here is done”.
Her pack continued to grow when my parents came to live with us. When this happened, Java looked at me as if to say “really?”. My mother was suffering from Alzheimer’s and my father from lung cancer. But again, Java rose to the task calmly infiltrating my mother’s thoughts to provide an anchor to reality and pressing comfortingly up against my father to let him know he was never alone. Meanwhile, she continued to strengthen the members of her pack, forcing Buddy to dig holes where she told him to dig, and getting Max moving when he just wanted to sit still. During this time, I had been diagnosed with a rare debilitating disease. Poor Java. She never got a break. She even had to rescue me when I took a bad fall in the middle of a road. Barking and jumping up and down to make sure that nobody would run over me. By then, Java had entered into Service Dog territory and was awarded with her own vest and badge. She had after all, more than earned it. She traveled everywhere I went…going on human vacations to the museums, concerts, even attending the Kentucky Derby, wowing the Queen of England’s entourage that year. But intermixed with all of her human events, were trips to the dog park, running free along the coastline south of San Francisco, and enjoying the luxury of soft beds, multiple treats and good food. She did have to suffer through the occasional bath, but she didn’t seem to really mind. So long as there was no nail trimming involved…She HATED having her nails trimmed.    Life took Java and her pack from California to Washington state where she was able to have great fun running around in the parks. During this time her pack was again reduced, but this time due to loss as first my mother and then my father passed away. And to make matters worse, the canaries that my father enjoyed so much had been infested with a bird mite which soon spread out to encompass the entire household. Biting and crawling, these vicious little pests tormented us relentlessly. Java became so sick that even the slightest touch to her skin would make her yelp. We had all been infected with Lyme’s disease by the time the mites were eradicated. But, Java just hitched up her little dog britches, got better and proceeded to push and prod her pack until they had finally relocated to a home out in the country. Life was good there. Java was allowed complete freedom to come and go and the neighbor dog, one who was reportedly vicious and aggressive, presented herself as a challenge to Java, who was now somewhat elderly and yes, ailing. (Java had also developed chronic pancreatitis). But quickly sizing up this much larger dog, she one day tested her mettle, chasing her all the way back into her home.   Eventually she had the poor dog so cowed that simply the sight of Java would send her scurrying away.   Yes….Life was indeed good.
Java of course continued on her mission to support and love her pack. Max was doing much better as was Buddy. And while I had suffered though the loss of my sister, my mother and my father all within the same 9 months, the hole that grew inside of me with each of their deaths was quickly filled by the never-ending love that Java provided. I could look at Java and know exactly what she was thinking. And she could do the same of me. We developed a daily routine which was of course outlined and dictated by Java who insisted upon certain things happening at certain times. Over the years, Java and I had become inseparable; it was difficult to tell where one of us began and the other one ended. If I had to be away from Java, I fretted and worried and Java would plant herself at the front door and howl. And when I came home, I would rush inside to find her wagging her little tail as fast as she could, running around in circles because she could not contain her excitement. But I would seldom go anywhere without Java. As the days got shorter this year…Java started to slow down. She had been diagnosed with Pulmonary Hypertension in March of 2015 and her prognosis was not good. But Java was a fighter and did not give up easily. Most dogs might have survived another few months after that diagnosis, but not Java….nope, she refused to leave and fought off that terrible disease for 18 months. She gave me a year and a half of her life because she knew that leaving me was going to be one of the hardest things I would ever have to endure. She knew that when she left, the hole that only she had filled, would be left empty and bleeding. So she stayed…and she stayed. But then a couple of nights before she transitioned…I noticed that Java, who was having difficulty breathing and keeping food down, would walk outside to just sit and stare for long moments. Sometimes she would sit next to Buddy for a very long time, not moving, doing nothing except sitting. She would stay next to me, pressing her body as close to mine as she could. And for two days and two nights, Java and I talked to each other. We shared memories of good times and even of bad times. And at the last, when Java made it clear to me that it was her time to go, she let Max carry her outside to sit in the sun for a few more minutes until she was too shaky to stand. But before we carried her inside, she was still strong enough to walk over to Buddy and steal his chew bone from him.   I knew that Java wanted me to learn one more lesson. She wanted me to be able to make the decision to let her go. She wanted me to be brave enough, to have enough courage, to let her leave for the Rainbow Bridge. So, as I spoke to her about the Rainbow Bridge and read poems to her about dogs who had lived before; she allowed herself to die within my arms as I told her that I loved her.
My brave little dog, left with so many pieces of my heart, I had no idea how it continued to beat. And as I tried to pull what remained of my heart together, I reflected upon the life of this amazing little angel who had come to us, to help us heal. And I couldn’t help but recall another dog. A dog who also had come into my life when I was a shy lonely girl with no friends. A dog who showed me how to be brave enough to venture out into the world. A dog who remained steadfast and loyal throughout her entire life. And when it came time to say good bye to her, I remember jokingly asking her to return, but if she could please return as a smaller dog. My beautiful German Shepherd had become paralyzed by a stroke so I had to carry her everywhere. And as I let her go, I recall reassuring her that there would be no fireworks to scare her where she was going. And then, twenty years later, here comes this little white dog who was coincidentally about half the size of a German Shepherd, a little dog who was not only unafraid of fireworks, but who openly defied them as she ran towards them barking as loud as she could.
Life without Java is almost unbearable. But I would be doing a grave disservice to her courage if I did not fight for it as hard as she always did. Java taught me more about living then any human ever did. Now I hope I can learn how to live without her. I know that is what she expects of me, and I will do anything except let her down.
So…what is the measure of a dog like Java? Quite simply – breathtakingly un-measurable.

Jazzy, Aug 2006 - Nov 2015

Jazzy was an angel dog. A morkie. Sweet gentle loving. Never me t a stranger, best friend to my special needs patient and encouraged the little girl to walk and talk and laugh a lot. She was a precious spirit. 5 lbs of love..I miss u little girl.

Jeannie, January 22, 2000 - August 30, 2016

Jeannie was very special. We loved her for 16 years and she loved us as well.

Jesse, 7/20/2002 - 5/7/16

Yesterday was a rough day. Our beautiful lab Jesse was put to sleep after 14 years together. A puppy until the day he passed, he was the solid rock of our family. Always there when we got home, he always greeted up with a big tail wag, a kiss and the feeling that whatever happened during the day, he was happy and excited to see us. I got him when he was 3 months old. He loved to chew on anything he could and run up and down the garden chasing butterflies. We grew together and when we moved to Colorado from California he was in his element. Playing in the snow, going for long walks around the neighborhood or going up to the mountains and smelling everything possible. In the last couple of years he began to slow down becoming that wise old dog with endless patience. In the last couple of weeks things began to wind down for him. His back end became painful to the point where he was unable to get up on his own. The vet said he was showing signs of liver cancer and he was constantly panting even when just standing there. We knew his time was coming to an end. Yesterday we had the vet come out to the house to put him to sleep. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. He even gave the vet a kiss before finally laying down for the last time. Oh how I kissed that face as I heard him take his last breath and then he was suddenly gone from us. I cried aloud and held him close to me and wished for just one more minute with him. Now he's gone from us and we must somehow try to move on without him in our lives. It hasn't even been 24 hours and the silence in the house is deafening without him here. We were blessed to have him in our lives and I will miss that beautiful gentle boy until the day I die. I love you Jesse with all my heart and will never forget how much love you gave me. Sleep peacefully my beautiful boy until we meet again.

Josie, June 1, 2016

First saw Josie April 24, 2016 at a Philippine wet market licking leftovers from a plastic bag. She was dirty, emaciated and weak. Good thing I bought cat food that day so I gave it to her.
The next 2 weeks I kept returning to give her clean food, water and meds. Was glad the market vendors also fed her daily even if it's just leftovers. Josie got weaker so I decided to adopt her and had her confined for 3 days at the vet. The exams showed she had kidney and liver illness, anemia, infection and swollen gums. But she had a huge appetite. It was the vet who named her Josie after his assistant's name, Joshua.
Josie only stayed 10 days at home because she suddenly didn't eat for a day and kept vomiting so I had her reconfined. The vets told me she regained a little appetite but was often force-fed and was losing weight despite doing all they can. I cried a lot knowing I'm losing her. After 10 days at the vet she passed June 1, 2016. Josie was only about 7 months old.
Josie, we only had 10 days together. I prayed I'll have more years with you. Mom and I love you and miss you so much. Looking forward to see you again at the Rainbow Bridge. Be happy....

--Patrick Berkenkotter

Add a Name/Tribute

Go to Main Page

Go to Bridgelists