There are many yardsticks by which I measure my life...
When I was young, the yardstick was the grade I was in.
Then it was before marriage and marriage (and eventually after marriage).
Then I measured the passing of time by the events starring Jake and Sara.
By my ever-changing jobs.
By my dress-size.
Today, I realized another, and much more constant yardstick -- I can tie my life's events to the dogs I've owned, from Gretchen, the dachshund of my childhood, through Heidi and Barni, to Kato my Akita (and the first dog that was completely and only mine), to baby Nene, the puppy Akita that came with us to Hawai'i, and on through many Jack Russells, a few adopted / foster dogs, to my current menagerie.
Today, Jake's dog Draco passed. I buried him in the pet cemetery of my Eugene farm, joining three of my brother's pets and Sara's Isabella. And I realize that Draco's passing is a huge and meaningful milestone.
We moved to Oregon from Hawai'i on Christmas Day 1996, with Sara's gimongous hound dog O'uli, and Jake's Dingo. Dingo went missing within the first week. As is our custom, when your dog disappears or dies, you get to choose a new dog. In mid-February of 1997, we took Jake to the Willamette Humane Society to choose a replacement pup (Dingo had also been a pound-puppy). Jake had studied up on puppy temperament testing (Jake was 9) and was ready to choose a new dog. At the pound that day were a litter of six or seven lab cross puppies, about 6 weeks old. Jake took his time, testing each carefully before choosing the dog that passed all his tests.
Sadly, that pup had already been reserved, and had someone else on the wait list in case the first person backed out. Jake wanted to be added to the wait list rather than take the second best puppy home that day. That decision really frames Jake's outlook on life for me: Don't settle. And believe that if it is right, it will happen.
The pound lady tried to explain to Jake that being third on the list meant that his chances of getting that particular puppy were none to none. Jake smiled and asked her to add his name to the list anyway.
We went home, without a puppy. A short time later (days, maybe a week, I forget) and the pound called to tell Jake that the first two folks had backed out, and the puppy was his if he still wanted him. And so Draco came home to live with us.
Each of us has a Draco story that speaks to his courage, his good humor, his competitive nature, his skill as a puppy babysitter, and his gentleness and trust in us. He was an amazing spirit. He passed peacefully after nearly 15 years of adventures.
Draco is gone. Jake is 24. Life goes on. Measured by the dogs in my yard...
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