ALL GOOD DOGS GO TO HEAVEN

By Jerome Cleary

Last week I had to come to terms with two things: My dog’s declining health, and making a final decision as whether or not to put my dog to sleep. I never really was a dog person, but I loved my mom’s dog so much that I ended up getting the same breed as the one she once owned: a Shih Tzu.

I named my dog Jack. He was black and white and had the most expressive devilish eyes.

I had my cat Norma Jean since my college days at NYU, and it was right after the riots in May that I decided to add the new edition of a dog to my household. I did much of the things new owners often do. I bought a book called: “There Are No Bad Dogs”, and spent my days and nights training him. My female cat Norma Jean was not happy at the new permanent guest, however, but she eventually grew to like him.

Nine years passed, and in the fall of 2000 I had to put my cat to sleep at almost 18 years of age. As soon as she was gone, Jack, now nine years old, seemed not bothered by her absence, which was uncharacteristically strange for him as he always used to be highly observant. Strange, that is, until I discovered just why he had barely noticed.

In the recent years, Jack had eye sight and kidney problems, which made it difficult to be aware of his surroundings. With his blindness getting worse in the past two years, I spent time anticipating even more of what he would need in the future. I even would keep my bathroom light on all night so that it would illuminate my hall way and bedroom so Jack wouldn’t lose his way. I could see him if he needed my help.

I remember how smart my dog was when I first got him. And I named a bunch of new toys for him — “bone,” or “the doll,” or even his favorite squeaky toy “the elephant,” and he would go in to the other room and return with the specific toy I had asked for.

But his sharp wit didn’t last forever. As the week of Thanksgiving passed, Jack seemed to have a cold that got worse and worse. I just assumed it being flu season and all, Jack just needed a bit of a rest, so I took him to the vet for a check-up.

The next thing I knew, he was being hospitalized for four days straight. After nearly a week of force feeding, fluids for his kidneys, and lots of antibiotics, my vet told me just what I did not want to hear.

“I’ve seen Jack be a real trouper,” he said. “But I don’t feel that he’s going to pull through this time.”

I finally went in to the vet to sit in a room with Jack. He was wrapped up in towel, and they laid him on the table in front of me. At first I thought he looked really bad. But after almost an hour of talking to him, crying and petting him, he started to look sort of better to me. As I lifted his head to scratch him under his chin and kiss his head, his eyes — once clouded over with blindness — had a certain look of calm and peace. Then he just laid there and curled up and slept.

The last 22 years, I’ve always had my pets with me during the holiday —something that I will be without this Christmas season. But one thing I’ll always have, and treasure, are the fond memories.

I’ll miss you, Jack.

Jerome Cleary is an actor, writer and comic at The World Famous Comedy Store-www.freecomedytickets.com and can be reached at: jeromeclearytalk@aol.com