His name was Speck.  My dad had fallen in love with the skinny white dog with one black dot.  The neighbors were holding him for their daughter while she relocated.  As weeks turned to months, the dog had outlasted its welcome at the neighbors house (a wonder as they had so many animals, I'm surprised they even noticed one more) and a ‘free dog' ad was placed in the paper. After two weeks and no replies, they told my dad that they were taking him to the pound.  My dad knew it was a foolish move, but it was last minute desperation that made him call and tell me the story.  Within a couple of hours, I was at their house to pick up Speck.  He was to stay with me while I found him a new home.  A couple weeks, tops I thought as he really was a good mannered handsome boy. 

 I was more than a bit nervous at bringing him to my house.  Jazz was there.  She was an ornery, belligerent 100 pound terror otherwise known as ‘my little girl'.  (I would elaborate, but I think that might draw enough of a picture and she really deserves a page all to herself someday).

 The meeting went better than planned due to Speck's swiftness.  Jazz's tactic was that of King Kong waiting for the plane to come close enough to grab it.  Speck was that plane.  As long as Speck didn't tire, he was safe.  When Speck did tire, there was some shelving on the covered porch that he could jump up onto for a safe rest.  It didn't take long to discover it was best to put his food up there as well.

 Dave the new boyfriend came by for a visit.  I think it was love at first sight between that little white dog and him. Speck was good at stealing your heart.  Within the week, I was convinced to keep Speck at my house until we found a place together. And so Dave (the man I was unsure even liked dogs until that point) went to the pet store and got all the goodies to make Speck feel at home.

 Now that you have heard the name Speck enough, how do you like it?  Neither Dave or myself cared for the name and so after another week or so of deliberations, Dave chose the little man's new name... Cracker - What the heck, the name made people chuckle.

 Upon agreement of this new arrangement, I allowed myself to grow close to the dog.... Cracker.  There was something comforting about him.  He was sensitive and smart and so willing to please.  He was kind of a yin to Jazz's yang.  Thank goodness that boy could run!

 His pound and vet records showed me that he must have been at least four years old at the time.  He was adopted as a puppy at the pound and then again when he was around two years old.  There's something about a pound dog that gives you an undying gratitude... that was Cracker.

 Due his necessity to keep running, he gained bulk... shear muscle.  He must have been 70 plus pounds at his peak. 

 Over the next few months a lot had changed.  Dave and I bought our first house together and the dogs went from a large yard where the chose to spend most of their time outside to a postage stamp lot where they stayed indoors especially after several successful yard breakouts. In fact, Dave and I had to take a day off work to put an electric fence up.  There's nothing like driving to your new house and seeing two dogs running amuck in the neighborhood thinking ‘those look like my dogs... wait a minute...!'

 The two dogs were unlikely companions that oddly complemented each other.  It was common that people would cross to the other side of the street when they saw Jazz coming, but when both Cracker and Jazz were together, they seemed less threatening.  On the flip side, Cracker was forming a pack mentality with his burly sister and wouldn't back down from any dog on the block... as long as Jazz was at his side. This limited Cracker's off leash trips tremendously. 

 Pack or not, they still had bouts with each other.  The final bout ended on my birthday in 1998... nearly a year after Cracker came to live with us, when with guests over they embarrassed us for the last time.  With most absolute directions from Dave and myself, the two dogs never fought... again.  Apparently they finally understood the severity of their actions and became companions ever after.

 In our house the rule is ‘all dogs need middle names'.  Cracker earned his with an incident that I won't go into details with, but the end result was the amputation of his tail.  His new middle name... McNubbins...

 The two dogs were living the good life.  They socialized with people and dogs who had brave guardians.  They were adorned with Halloween outfits and given big cushy dog beds.  It wasn't a bad way to grow old. 

 It became clear at a point that although approximately the same age, Jazz and Cracker would not pass away on the same day... far from it... We prepared ourselves.  It seemed like a good idea to get a companion for Cracker so that he would not feel Jazz's loss to badly, but Dave made it clear that two dogs were enough. Good thing for cats, then.  I never claimed to be ‘a cat person', far from it, in fact - That's why it really was a surprise when I brought Jazzy Cat home for Dave's birthday in April of 2005.  I know, I know... two Jazz's in one house, but by then, Jazz (the dog) was deaf and Jazzy Cat would actually respond to his name, so changing it didn't seem to make sense. 

 Due to the geriatric dogs, the house and the coolest cat that would never think to back down, the animals cohabitated in peace.  It is my belief that they actually enjoyed each others company, in fact.

 Older they did grow and Jazz who was about the same age as Cracker, did not have the same good genes.  She passed away in August 2005.  When it was her time, she could not pass on her own, and so we took them both to the vet.  I had heard that if the companion dog sees the death of its partner, he will understand that his partner is not returning and not mourn as long.  Cracker's witnessing Jazz's passing was not the harmonious experience we had anticipated as Cracker pranced around the room happily as if to say ‘your all mine now!'

 He seemed fine without a sister... better than fine, really as if he was reveling in only-child syndrome - But within that year it was either him or me that felt the emptiness that Jazz left behind.  Within a month and with Dave's raised eyebrow, the six year old Minnie joined our household. Unlike Jazz, she is a happy free spirit and I can only imagine if Cracker had met Minnie years earlier, they would have bonded like no other pair of dogs... both complementing the others good traits.

 Cracker was thirteen by now, still spry, but no where near Minnie's energy level.  At times it seemed like Minnie might be accelerating Cracker's demise with her vigor.  To balance out the energy levels, the timing seemed right for Riley came to live with us. He had the size and sense of humor of Jazz, but the courage of a cowardly lion.  Perfect - With the exception of Jazzy Cat, all the animals saw Cracker as the patriarch.

 Just as with all people and animals, Cracker's dog-tor visits (ha!) became the norm.  His heart and lungs remained in great condition...  his nerves and muscles were another story.  Within a year he had dropped from 65 pounds down to 45... All of his muscle was nearly gone.  With the miracle of laser treatments, we were able to keep him walking and comfortable for another year.

 Both  Dave and I are very pragmatic when it's time to let a dog go peacefully.  Unfortunately, yesterday was that day for Cracker.  He was suffering and it was apparent that he wanted to go and couldn't manage it on his own. 

 We took him in and circled the gurney.  "What's his name?"  asked the technician.  "Cracker" we both answered.  She chuckled politely. We did too.  Yep, the old man got the last laugh.