THE Worst puppy in the WORLD..tribute to a good dog.

I was going to write about what a fuck-job that CAFTA is for the American worker...but, I'm sidetracked.

You see, the worst puppy in the world who grew up to be the most good-hearted dog in the world died today. John F. Kennedy. He lived with my ex-boyfriend Chris and his wife Ruth. I visited Jack often, and now I realise too late, not often enough. I miss Jack already. He hated having his photo taken.

Chris and I had been burglarised in March of '93. We had bought a house for a reasonable sum in a neighborhood(Western & Armitage) where white folks were not appreciated, in fact, Chris had an anonymous, threatening, racist hate letter put in his mail-box once. The burglars took lots of stuff. My Rickenbacher bass, a computer, and a stereo that contained a cassette with the immortal song "Axel Rose is a Pussy". After some time, and major fortification, we decided we needed a watchdog, too. Even after the fortifications, we'd still come home and see where a crowbar had been applied to the door frame. This is why we decided we needed a dog.

One night after work we set off to the David R. Lee Animal Shelter on S. Western Avenue, and asked to see dogs and puppies. The staff happily showed us some. Right away, I fell in love with this medium size all black thing with silky hair, sorrowful, frightened eyes, and a tail that waved just dejectedly enough to let you know that YOU were her last hope. And we may have been. Oh the guilt. I feel the guilt just thinking about her right now. I want to save every animal in every animal shelter. She was already a full grown dog...didn't get along with cats, though, and we had 3...Spot, Mikey and the Puma. So, we figured a puppy was our best bet. I don't remember seeing Jack for the first time, or specifically choosing him. I think Chris did.

I must have gone into shock. It was, and is, all a blur. And all the yelping and barking ...Pick Me! Pick Me! Pick Me! Hello! Hello! Feed me! I had never had a puppy before, or a dog.

So, somehow we ended up with this 8 week old puppy. Mostly Black and brown, and some white. A handsome fellow, and already gelded. The staff at the pound were delighted...a bunch of young African American guys saying stuff to the puppy like: "Shit, slick, you gonna go live in a nice house now, your own TV with a remote" This amiable and happy conversation snapped me back to conciousness. I remember distinctly them telling me he would weigh 70 lbs. full grown. We finished filling out the paperwork, paid them some money, and we left, with our puppy.

Tip off of things to come: On the car-ride home, the puppy peed all over my lap. I looked at his feet. His feet were HUGE. When we got the puppy home, and put him down on the floor, the first thing he saw, and the first thing that saw him, was Spot. Spot was not happy, and puffed up to 3 times his normal size. Spot, to this day, is called the Porcupine because of that instant. The puppy charged. He wasn't going to hurt Spot, he just wanted to say "Hi." Puma took him in stride, and Mikey and the puppy became fast friends and together invented a game called "slappy", eventually.

Chris's parents and brother had a dog named Mac at the time, and after a month or so, we took the puppy over to meet his Uncle Mac. Mac was terrified of the puppy, because the puppy spent a good deal of time trying to hump him. Because of this behaviour, I named the puppy John F. Kennedy. Jack. Chris called him Jacobin Saluki, because Chris liked to fancy that Jack was a Saluki. And a Jacobin. The vet said he was part Bernese Mountain dog, and I always thought he looked exactly like a Swiss Mountain dog. But Jack was a mutt.

Chris's mother loved Jack..she could calm him down when no-one or nothing else could. I hope they have found each other by now. And Mikey, and the Puma, too. And Frank Gomez...Jack annoyed the hell out of Frank, so I hope by now Jack has stuck his nose in Frankie's crotch a few times.

Jack liked to eat furniture...he ate 4 couches. Apparently, he had separation anxiety. One day I came home from work and the living room was knee deep in couch stuffing. One morning we woke up and another couch had been destroyed AND dragged in front of the bedroom door. Jack was also part beaver, the baseboards being especially tasty.

Jack could be tiring...from the second we got home from work, to the second we went to bed, he would want to play fetch...endlessly. And I'm sure it remained that way until today.

Jack had already blown by 60 lbs by the time he was 6 months old. We got burglarised again, when he was about 6 months old, and the next day, whilst waiting for the police evidence technicians to come(they never showed up) I taught Jack how to bark. We never got burglarised again after Jack found his voice. He sounded so mean...if only they knew.

Then there was the time when he was a puppy, that he had diarrhea so foul and for so long(about a week..it was nothing..just something he ate) that I completely lost my appetite, and lost 20 Lbs! The dog shit diet! Jack liked to eat things, things that may have not been too good for his digestion...here is a partial list:

Cat poo
Pencils
Pens
Pot
Wallets
Money
Dove Soap
Paper
Plastic
Plaster
Wood
Fabric
Couch stuffing
Hopes and dreams(Just Kidding, Jack)

He refused to be housebroken until he was about 5 years old. We tried everything except throttling him. Chris put linoleum down on the floor(to cover the oak flooring that his urine had ruined) and Voila! housebroken dog.

Jack kept growing and growing...he ended up, in his prime, weighing about 130 lbs..I was out walking Jack in front of the house one day and a Puerto Rican guy walked by, pointed to him and said "feo!" Ugly.

I taught Jack a few tricks..sit, speak and shake. Later, Chris taught him roll-over. In his later years, Jack would combine all these small, amateur tricks into one big trick. You asked for sit? Well! You also get speak, shake and roll over, too! Per Chris..here is the order of Jack's tricks:

Jack's full routine =Sit -- paw -- other one -- give me a kiss -- lie down -- roll over -- moo like a cow

Jack loved people. 'Cuz the people would give him fetchings, pettings and snausages. He always remembered me, and he would always boop me when I came through the door. He was very protective of his food in general but especially his growl food(canned food), his blanket and his special chair. The kitties could eat some of his food while he was eating it...but He did NOT share his food with the peoples! Or his blanket! Or his special chair..ok, you could sit in his special chair...but you were not permitted to make a fuss about it. When you don't own much...everything you do own is important!

God, I have so many memories.... and pictures....and that is all I have. Memories are cheap and simple, and they aren't nearly enough.

Because of Jack, I will never have another puppy. But someday I WILL have another dog. Someday.