save the last dance for me

Jack…..January 1, 2004-December 28, 2013.

He arrived at our Airstream 8 years ago, 20 pounds of sleek black hair, lightning quick on four legs, a small mixed breed without aristocratic provenance…simply a 2 y/o terrier pup rescued from an Indiana shelter by a caring high school English teacher.

He soon adapted to our habits and quietly, systematically, tranformed us into the pet owners he knew we could be.  He walked me daily.  Everywhere and anywhere, never allowing me a measure of physical decadence nor denying him the joy to discover the infinite aromas in the real world.  We were a team, Jack and me, and then we rested.


Accomodating to golf on TV, which he found quite boring

Jack became a friend to everyone, a special intoxicating presence, who knew when, and where, and how much, the human world needed him. He had an aura.



Play ?  Nothing better than a day on his beach or chasing a squirrel

In the past month, in blatant disregard of the dogma, ‘you can’t teach an old dog a new trick’, Lynn had, with the aid of a few treats, taught him how to dance.  No threat to Astaire and Rogers, they managed a nice tango together.  At the least, they thought they could dance.

He was, like so many family pets, a dog for the ages.  My constant companion for eight years, connected together at the heart, the emotional vacuum will heal over time.  It must.  Those of you, like us, who have outlived their special companions, know the emptiness.


Jack, on duty 28Aug 2011, 9 days before Lynn’s transplant call,

               he sensed the future before everyone else

He had watched over Lynn during her most trying days, allowing her spirit to soar when she needed it most.  The intimacy, while snuggling together, created a bond like mother and child, one they shared to the very end while she caressed that face during his final breaths.  The breaths that ended too soon.


One little kiss, no more

The tears we are shedding…..they are the tears of joy and happiness, thankful for the years he gave to us.

For Lynn, she’ll never forget, Jack saved the last dance for her.  Tiptoe to heaven little guy, you were the very best.


insightout© 2013

In memory  of:

Heinz, Kramer, Yooper, Sage, Teddie, Sandy, Louie, Brandy II, Cinch, Ruby, Penny, Norah, Zimba



Yappy Hour, Reigning Dogs

dateline: Jackson Center, Ohio

Alumapalooza III

A new feature in the cascade of events for this unique rally; an hour for dogs to share their owners with other owners.  The owners, far more discreet than their beloved pets, are content to ‘talk’ without resorting to the mandatory sniffing of each other’s private parts.  Maybe next year.


Dozens of high-end breeds; dachshund, weimaraner, beagles, greyhounds, Scotties…..and a crowd favorite, the bulldog on the skateboard.  Boogeying down Bambi Lane.


Some fast, aloof, intelligent, powerful, miniscule, or alert, and others, rescue dogs like our Jack, the result of hasty, unplanned dog sex.  A dog’s eye view of the party.


Jack is considering accepting donations for his favorite cause, a national system to counter the dreaded wave of kanine kidnappings (think amber alert).  Seen below maintaining a vigil by his box trailer, to discuss strategy with other potential victims.


Among the dogs, few disappointments other than the absence of the corgi, favorite of writers, Graham Mackintosh (Pili) and A/S Life’s own Bill Doyle (Tasha).  However an unconfirmed rumor, started by a Welsh Terrier of ill repute, speculated that the lady below was planning to attend Alumapalooza IV in 2013.


Also, missing, not a single Lassie, as seen in this low-res file photo from 1955.


Lynn and I plan to adopt a collie puppy this year, a female, and we’ll name her Melon.  Like the movies of her forbearers, she will become melon collie and that will be sad.



Calmalooza before the storm

As interpreted by a dog who ate a frog, last night.  Welcome to Facebark, and the fine print, by Jack.

Jack Disclaimer:
Any resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent  and those who know them, especially if  I have been kind enough to provide their real names, dates of birth, two photo ID’s, credit card data, and, in some cases, cell phone numbers.  All events described herein actually happened, or may have happened, though on occasion certain, very small, liberties with chronology have been exercised, because that is my right as a dog.

The countdown to the most significant Airstream rally, Alumapalooza III, is underway, and the highly anticipated Yappy Hour on Tues., 29May2012.  As co-host to the Man-In-The-Maze entourage, for three years running, I have provided courtesy parking adjacent to my dog run in the quiet days prior to the main event.

No purchase required

After the ‘frog’ incident, frothing at the mouth from the distasteful critter, multiple bouts of hurling, and eating copious amounts of grass, I awoke refreshed this morning.  This was my highest stress level since I met a skunk head-on at the cabin.

L-R, Man-in-the-Maze (aka Rich), me, Daughter-in-the-Maze (aka Emma)

This morning attention is turned to the corn crib, where a stupid raccoon (IQ test score~ 27 or less) once again fell for the peanut butter in a dish trick.  They are not only dumb, they have the personal hygiene quotient of an interstate toilet sewage back-up.  Sooooo, Emma and I head for the Izaak Walton league  to ‘relocate’ the stinky varmint.


The soon to be released defendant, and parole officer, Emma

The morning concludes.  I gaze outward and contemplate the day ahead and the years that surround me.


  • Silver Maple  c. 1855
  • The barn….1881
  • Neal……1919
  • Amish porch furniture..1995
  • Safari bunkhouse….2005
  • MB GLK Van….2008

That’s it for today, tempus fugit, and my final thought before embarking on an exciting week.

Ribbit, ribbit.