In 1995 our first dog, Agro, a 2 month old border collie, was hit and killed by a 4WD. I would have been about 10 years old.
My dad worked at the local newspaper in Albury. Later that same week, an advertisement came in from the local
pound for the "dog of the week". Basically every week the
pound advertised a standout dog, whose owner hadn't claimed them and was to be put down that weekend if an owner wasn't found. It was an 18 month old border collie. Dad took it as a sign, and that afternoon we went down to the
pound to have a look at this dog.
In amongst the pack of mongrels was this border collie. In the corner of the cage closest to us was this concrete enclosure for a water meter, it was about 4 feet high or so. Without so much of an effort, this dog leapt up onto the box and was face to face with us. No other dog could do it, no matter how hard they tried. Right then and there Dad called him Jack, as in “jumping jack flash”. That afternoon he was back at our house.
The damn dog was mad! He chased anything that moved. He would often be found several km away chasing cars at the hospital. We lived on a property that just had a wire fence with no gate so there was no way of keeping him in. One day he came limping home, he had been clipped by a car and broke his leg. He stopped running around the streets after that but still chased cars in our area, but never too close.
In 1997 he was bitten by a small black snake that he was trying to chase out of our garage. It was sitting behind a mattress, and the dog was going spastic. I pulled back the mattress to see this snake. The dog was crook for a few days but survived.
In 2004 he developed a cancer near his rear end. Thankfully it was removed and never returned. My dog beat cancer! He looked funny with that shaved rear end for a few weeks though.
He followed us around as we moved to Newcastle, then Sydney. He was there for my first kiss at the local park with my now wife. He was there studying for the HSC on the back patio driving me crazy with those damn squeaky toys (which my girlfriend thought was hilarious). He watched as my family got ready for my wedding. He was the best dog a boy, and a man, could ask for.
In the last few months the arthritis in his back got worse. He stopped wanting us to throw toys, and didn’t want to go for a walk. The vet put him on painkillers which worked for a while, but not for long. It had recently reached the stage where he couldn’t walk up or down the stairs in the back yard.
The decision was made to put him down on Saturday. Thankfully it was quick and peaceful. It was one of the hardest moments in my life. We had saved him from the needle all those years ago, and given him the best damn life a dog could ask for. He was about 16 years old.
I’ll miss you mate. You’ll always be at the back door looking in.
RIP
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