Dearly missed by Pat and Marcia McNulty
Jake gave us all the love his big heart could give and then, on September 14, 2006 he crossed over the Rainbow Bridge with the rest of the angels.
Jake was the best dog in the whole world. We told him so every day. He was the center of our world and everything revolved around him. That was just how it was from the very beginning. He earned it and he deserved it and we all knew it. He had his own couch, his own toys, five dog beds and a motorized dog bed disguised as a big black Suburban. We’re really glad he wasn’t much of a runner on the track so he came to us early in his life. We suspect that he didn’t race very well because he had to lift his leg on every post all the way around the track, and that can be time consuming…
Jake was a people magnet and pretty much everyone was drawn to him. We couldn’t walk down the street without attracting at least a few people and sometimes a pretty good little crowd. All kinds of people – all ages and sizes and from every sort of life circumstance would come up to him. Children loved him, even though he was bigger than many of them – he was very tall and weighted just under 100 pounds, huge for a greyhound. He would stand patiently and let all the little kids pet and talk to him. With great dignity he would acknowledge the attention of adults and stand quietly while they admired him, asked questions about him and inevitably told their own dog an/dor greyhound stories. Sometimes he would stop and stand next to a wheelchair to let someone reach out to touch and talk to him. He seemed to understand when someone had trouble doing that but really wanted to.
No matter where we took him or what we asked him to do, it was OK with him. Unless of course we asked him to walk over a steel grate on the sidewalk…that took some work, but he would still do it, so long as Pat was the one doing the asking. Despite his size he was always very careful indoors and he never broke a thing (hence his nickname). Of course at home he had his own couch and he had the favorite couches at the homes of people he visited too. Couches were just pretty much his domain and if anyone made the mstake of sitting down on one with him he would just very slowly and gradually oooch down and herd them right off the end.
He politely tolerated and pretty much ignored other dogs unless they were of the greyhound clan. Then he would go over for a meet and greet and chat for awhile. He did have some pretty good friends besides his people – Miss the King Charles spaniel and Yoda the cat. Yoda came and walked him over the Rainbow Bridge.
Jake loved us all very much. Some of us even got very special welcomes when we came to visit. At parties he would circulate like a true gentleman host. Even at the really big parties with tons of people he would greet and inspect each guest then go and stretch out right in the middle of the action, trusting that everyone would just work their way around him. And they did.
But Pat was his person, his cosmic soul mate, his reason for being. If Pat was there and he said it was OK, then it was. He could sense Pat’s diabetes problems. On more than one occasion he pushed against him to stop him from walking further or crossing the street when his blood sugar went wrong, even before Pat was aware of it. He and Pat once took a long road trip, just the two of them and we have a wonderful picture of him running from a big wave in the surf on a California beach. Greyhounds are really not beach dogs, but when they reached the Pacific, Pat asked so in he went.
We are all so grateful for the time we had with Jake. He taught us all so many things but mostly how to love and be patient. He was a once in a lifetime guy. He’s left an enormous hole in our days and our homes and our lives and we’ll miss him forever.
So Jake, we’ll see you before you know it. Have lots of fun and wait for us on the other side. We’ll love you forever and ever. And never forget, you’re the best dog in the whole world, and you always will be. Thanks for everything.
Love, Your People, Pat and Marcia McNulty