Shih Tzu holds Belleville News-Democrat columnist in the palm of his paw
.jpg "It was love at first sight when Belleville News-Democrat columnist Michelle Meehan Schrader met her Captain Jack.")
I didn’t mean to fall in love with Captain Jack. It just happened. My husband was away on a fishing trip and there he was: A beautiful, one-eyed, buff-colored Shih Tzu, wearing nothing but an “Adopt Me” vest.
Looking back, it was Jack’s lone eye that first attracted me. Round and brown as a chocolate drop, it lured me in and melted my heart. Eleven years later, Jack still sleeps at my side.
My husband isn’t happy about this. But Jack seems very content.
“He’s getting old,” my husband, Mark, said, recently.
“Aren’t we all?” I asked.
At the time, I was cradling Jack in my arms, dropping pieces of fruit in his mouth. Jack’s favorite foods include watermelon and mango. His weight problem stems from his partiality to peanut butter and the cheese I sprinkle on his kibble.
Sadly, time has not been kind to Jack. Aside from his missing eye — the result of an injury that occurred before we met — Jack also has gone deaf and now walks on three legs. Older dogs often lose their hearing. But the leg thing? Well, that’s another story ...
Our neurotic, wave-runner riding dog, Leonard, died last year. Though his passing broke my heart, it had the opposite effect on Jack. You see, Leonard had always bullied Jack. So when Lenny crossed The Rainbow Bridge, Jack — who was never one for exercise — got off the couch and did a happy dance.
“Jack was zipping around the yard like a crazy man,” I told our vet. “Then he fell down in the grass and when he came up he was limping.”
The limping evolved into Jack carrying his hind leg. An ACL surgery did not fix the problem. It eventually was determined Jack would have to live with his disability, taking an anti-inflammatory pill I serve him rolled in cream cheese every morning.
No, Jack’s life isn’t perfect but then neither is mine. He barks. I jump. Since going deaf, he barks even louder. And since injuring his leg, he’s become more demanding.
Some might say my dog is spoiled. My husband has a different take on this.
“That dog owns you,” Mark tells me, as I lift Jack up and down from the sofa.
“He’s disabled,” I respond. “Have a heart.”
“He’s a slug,” he says. Then he pats Jack on his head.
It’s a fat head. Sort of like a bullfrog’s. But with the cutest little nose you ever saw.
