RIP Jack the Mack MacHeath...

Their time is short, but their love is deep.

I felt like the angel of death walking into the seclusion room last night. I was on my way back from two photo shoots when Jack's resident vet called me. "I think you should come down today...There is a chance he can still fight this, but tonight is critical. I'll wait here for you." I hurried the 3.5 hour drive as I knew her shift ended in the afternoon. But our night together went until about 9:30 p.m. I am so grateful to have had her by my side with Jack. I sobbed the entire way to MSU. The familiar campus now had an unwelcome darkness about it, as I knew in the back of my mind I might be saying goodbye to my friend last night.

Jack was put in a seclusion room during his stay where you have to wear full biohazard gear and they don't allow owners to enter the area - you can view your pet through a glass window. It is truly heartbreaking to not be able to touch your pet when they need you the most. I would have been by his side the last several days, had they let me. All I wanted to do was hold my baby boy but they forbid me...so I went home to TC and prayed, researched, and paced the house for days. I couldn't concentrate on work. I tried telling Jack in my mind that I was coming to see him soon and to keep fighting. I drew a cartoon of Jack on the fridge under my one and only Christmas wish "1) Have Jack the Mack home and well".

When I dropped him off on Friday I had a pit in my stomach, "He's going to die here..." is what an inner voice said to me. But I didn't want to listen. I pleaded that they start the tier three antibiotic and do a blood transfusion that day but they waited until Sunday, after other tests - it was too late. I didn't realize how bad of condition he was in because I would get contradictory updates "You can take him home on Sunday night or Monday" and then "I don't know if he's going to make it"...It was such a rollercoaster. It was torture.

When I saw him for the first time since I dropped him off, it broke my heart. I could see death coming. On the other side of the glass in a cold metal cage was my puppy. Even though he was nine, he was still my puppy. He was so anemic that the lively pink tones were gone in his face, he was crusted over from head to toe in infection, and his hind quarters were raw from rubbing in the kennel. He struggled to sit and was uncomfortable. His breathing was restricted due to nasal swelling. "Maybe we can open the door and you can call to him, but you can't come in...I'm so sorry," the vet told me. I mustered a cracked voice to call to Jack and he struggled to lift his head to see me. Another vet tech placed my t-shirt I brought in his cage so he could at least smell me. She pat him on the side and comforted him. "I'm so jealous of her right now...I just want to pet him..." I sobbed and I could see the resident vet looking around to see if her senior was present. "I wrote a waiver, I hold you harmless and I understand the risks...I wish I could see him...." I probably sounded like a toddler pleading.

She kept letting me do more and I was so grateful, I never asked but she just kept pushing the envelope for me. "You can lean in the first door here more and see if he'll respond." then "Come in the first door and step on this foam pad, but don't go through the second door"

Finally under her breath she mutters, "We're going to get you dressed and I'll let you in there to see him...I'm not supposed to." I was praying they would let me sit with him and pet him at least. I couldn't wait to pet him and be by his side. "He is a fighter and a Bulldog. By all means, this dog should be dead already...but he's fighting." I think Jack was waiting for my permission to go and for me to be with him during his transition to the the spirit world.

I put on the booties, the "bunny suit", the hair net and gloves. I stepped in the soapy floor mats and was told I could turn the monitors off for Jack so it was quiet and peaceful in there together. I entered the room and opened his cage, so happy to be with my dog again. He shifted his weight to try and lean into me and I pet him...thanking him for everything. "It has been such an honor to have you, and I am so blessed to have you as my dog, Jack. I am so sorry but I am so proud of you too. You've been so strong." I knew I had to put him down as I looked over his body and watched him. He didn't want to eat and couldn't get comfortable. They didn't tell me how bad it was. It was bad. I started to feel the need to hurry and put him at peace - I couldn't see his suffering anymore. I wanted to be a good shepherd to him.

We filled out the paperwork, I made a phone call to my husband, and we returned to Jack's seclusion room. Some syringes in tow; flush syringes and a white one and a blue one. The blue one is the last one. Jack lay down on his own finally, as if he was ready and knew what was coming. He surrendered. I held his paw and pet the parts of him that weren't painful and asked if he was ready. "We're going to walk through this door together buddy. I'm right here." The white flowed down the tube and I saw Jack relaxing, into a peaceful state. We flushed the tube again. Jack responded to her pokes so we added more. Tested again. He was still fighting for me. "It's okay to go home, Jack. You've done a great job, you don't have to stay anymore," I told him. "Go to sleep, sweet boy..." the vet whispered. "Go to sleep..."Down came the blue. The final step. "Goodbye Jack..." and at the epitome of our pain, I felt a cooling peaceful wave of release wash over as his spirit left. What was underneath my hand was now a shell. Jack was no longer there but his armor was. It was around 9:15 last night when he passed.

I marveled at my beautiful dog as we covered him in a blanket. Trying to remember and capture every wrinkle, fold, and character of him in my mind forever. "555" I told myself in my head...

During my drive down to MSU last night I kept seeing the number 555 everywhere...like an outrageous amount of times on billboards, license plates, mentions on the radio...so I had to look up the angel number 555 online. Perhaps it was a sign. "Angel Number 555 tells of significant and necessary changes happening in your life that have been Divinely inspired and guided...a message from your angels that it is time to let go of the ‘old’ that is no longer positively serving you...Remember that everything happens for a reason and nothing happens by chance. Even though the reason/s for the changes may not be clear at this point in time, trust that all will fall into place for you. These changes have come about so that you can break free from old restraints...major life changes are taking place in many areas of your life. Trust that these changes are for both your immediate and long-term benefit. The angels ask that you ‘go with the flow..."

I have dreaded the day I would have to say goodbye to Jack for many years. I knew that something I loved so much would one day be gone and it wasn't something I could prevent.

The vet and I hugged, I thanked her for being so compassionate and for going above and beyond to let me be with Jack. "I hate when owners aren't here for their pets when they go...I am so glad you were here for him and you chose to put him to rest. "I don't envy your job..." I said, which is ironic because I had wanted to be a vet. This was the side of the field I would be terrible with. "Thank you for staying and I'm sorry for ruining your night..." She had stayed over time for many hours. "I'm going to go cry on the way home too..." she told me. A bittersweet career.

My soul shattered once I got to my car and I am sure my shrieks of loss could be heard in the parking lot. Waves of shock, acceptance, numbness, and despair washed over me on my drive home. I am still processing this loss but needed to write his goodbye story as it's therapeutic for me. After our miscarriage last month, Annie almost dying during a nail trim, and now losing Jack...it has been a rough two months for us.

I got my Christmas wish in an odd way, Jack is "home and well" but not in the sense I had wanted. Jack Annie Harris (their Facebook page) have been one of the best blessings in my life. They've kept me responsible, brought laughter to me daily, and have put smiles on many people's faces. They are both so loved. I don't know how Annie is going to do without Jack but I am giving her extra love and support. Thank you everyone for all your prayers, good mojo and thoughts during this painful rollercoaster but in a way it is good to have a final answer. No more worrying and wondering. Now I have to get past the little reminders...Waking up and crying throughout the night because you remember what has happened, not having him by my side as my copilot to take Cam to daycare, looking for him outside but to find nothing, no more camping and boating adventures with Jack (his favorite), putting away his items...it all feels surreal.

I feel like I've put a strong soldier to rest and I am honored. Thank you Jack for everything. I am devastated but it's for the best and time will help numb this gaping hole in my heart I hope.

A.k.A. "Doo-dee, dee-dee, Jackie-doo, Beau-beau, Jack the Mack MacHeath, Jackie, bubs" and many other names. RIP Jack the Mac MacHeath Harris Fall...You are so loved and so missed already. <3