Merry Christmas to you all. It was six years ago, just before the holidays, when we took Dakota home from Save-A-Pet. The previous year we had lost our old dog, Daisy. She was over 14 years old and had wandered out into the woods up North Thanksgiving weekend. And I’ll be honest, Daisy and I were not on great terms at the end. She had been treading on my nerves the last five years. She’d poop on the rug outside the garage door and I would inevitably step in it. How she lined things up to the rug’s pattern I never knew. I had never lost an animal before. Desi was beside herself and I felt horrible for all the ill will I lavished on her in her elder years. We never found her despite Desi’s best efforts. I’ll admit I was rather relieved without Daisy. Outside of Desi’s heartache, the household was much smoother without cleaning after Daisy. I never worried about stepping around in my own house anymore. So it was understandable why Desi didn’t tell me about Fonzie.

As Jack got older he would do less and less. Long gone were his days of creating 15-20 pieces of 7 or 8 different molds for his ceramic shows. Jack did a great job on everything but it was those ‘one of a kind’ pieces he where really shined on. When he would make ‘the girls’ (his four daughters-in-law) special holiday pieces his talent showed through his loving treatment of his gifts. But as I said, Jack’s ceramics days had been shelved like his unfinished greenware in his workspace.

It was the Thanksgiving after Jack’s Miracle (after being removed from life support and surviving) we lost Daisy. Jack was going through a lot of therapy. As Joyce would attest, Jack was not a good patient. But with saintly patience herself, Joyce got Jack on track. All saints have their angels that help them with their work and Joyce was Dave, Jim and John. And you knew you were making progress with Jack when his sass was coming back.

While his therapy had ended, it was clear his last hospital visit had taken its toll. It was John’s wife Denise who started her own therapy sessions with Jack. While his unfinished ceramics pieces sat shelved in the basement, Denise tried to coax his muse back into being. She warmed his artistic embers by enrolling both Jack and herself in a wine glasses painting class. By the end of that summer, they were planning on getting a table to sell their finished wares an upcoming craft fair.

This is where Fate stepped in. And it’s OK if you say it was God but when its bad I tend to call that Fate. So by now, we are about a year without Daisy. Outside of the reminder of losing Daisy when we went up North, it was clear that traveling was much easier without her. I no longer feared walking around my house in bare feet in the dark. It was great to see Jack’s muse return but there was an uneasy silence between Desi and I after I told her about the craft fair – the craft show was being held at the Grayslake Save-A-Pet. <insert sinister piano chords>

Sometimes it’s what is not said that you should be worried about. Desi never said anything. She didn’t have to. Everyone knows you can’t mix dogs and kids (and dog-loving wives) – the dad always gets hurt. And I was no dummy, I knew what was coming. Though the craft show was small and for the most part, uneventful. But Fate was still stalking me. We looked at the crafts and I even went along when they looked at the dogs. Desi broke the silence and hinted about the possibility of getting another dog. I replied how nice it was to walk around bare-footed. However, that same night we had tickets for the Chicago Wolves. That’s when Fate pounced for a second time that day. Save-A-Pet was sponsoring the night’s events – they even paraded puppies on the ice between periods. Is that even fair?

Desi took this as a sign. Unbeknown to me, she and the kids went back to Save-A-Pet to inquire about Fonzie, a dog they had seen from the craft fair. Luckily even thieves, assassins and animal adoption agencies have their rules and they informed Desi they couldn’t talk to her about adoption until ALL the family members had met the dog – which meant I had the deciding vote. Fortunately, God had softened my heart, or maybe it was my penance for my relationship with Daisy but I had been milling around the idea of another dog myself. I had talked to Jack earlier that day and had told him about Desi’s plan and I was going to meet her and the kids at Save-A-Pet after work to meet Fonzie. Jack called me when I was interviewing Fonzie to see how things had gone.

Fonzie did not make a good first impression. When they brought him into the room we were waiting in, the first thing he did was pee on a box. I turned to the Save-A-Pet rep and asked about their return policy. 30 days? Yes, that would be fine. Despite Fonzie’s terrible interview skills, when it came to taking the vote – it was unanimous. The only dissension was Desi on Fonzie’s name – she changed it to Dakota. Taken from a Dodge Dakota and our recent trip to South Dakota. And that peeing incident during the interview? there has only been one other problem in the last seven years.

We lost Jack that following January. It was one of the coldest days in years when we buried him. It was almost like Jack was saying “It’s going to be a cold day in hell before you beat me” and Jack was giving it his all that day. But in the end, we said our goodbyes.

Or so I thought. Early that spring I upgraded my phone. It wasn’t too long when my voicemail inbox was full. The pleasant female computer voice told that if I wanted to receive any more messages I was going to have to delete some. This was frustrating because I had been having problems with receiving my voicemail messages. Sometimes it would take hours, days or even weeks for me to be notified I had a message. A full inbox seemed inevitable with Verizon as your carrier. The first saved voice message I had was this:

I shuttered hearing Jack’s voice again. There was no way I could delete his voice message so I pressed 9 to save it. She told me this message would be saved 21 days. I thought I should figure out how to save that message somewhere outside of Verizon’s Evil Voice Mail service. But life gets busy and you forget to do things, even important things.

And then my inbox got full again. Again the first message I hear is Jack’s. I tell the nice computer lady to save it again by pressing 9. And every time my voice message inbox gets filled over the next six years, I tell the Verizon Computer Lady to save his message. It’s been a couple of dozen times by now. Sometimes she’s willing to keep it for 90 days, sometimes only 21 days. Last week they told me they would keep it for 120 days. Someone must have defragged her disks that day.

But each time I would again listen to Jack’s voice. I hear how fragile he had become. No longer the firm taskmaster who told us how to mow the grass or yelled at us to go out and shovel the drive. I heard how involved he was. I was glad it wasn’t one of his typical messages – “Call me” <click>. But I think I would have even saved that message too.

Jack loved Christmas. Not because he could make great Christmas ceramic pieces – although he did. Not for the gift-giving –  although he would have great ideas and went to great lengths to fulfill them. Jack loved when we would gather together on Christmas day and we were all together. Yes, there were problems but there were always smiles and there was always laughter. And it only echoes louder with his grandchildren.

So, Jack, I will answer your question. I tell the Verizon lady I would like to reply by pressing  8 – do I approve of the dog? most definitely. He’s the best dog I’ve ever met. The kids love him and he a big part of our family. I think you’d like him too but you said he’s an awfully big dog. Desi says he’s our reward for putting up with Daisy. Yeah, I know I wasn’t sure about getting another dog and I teased you and Denise about having that craft fair at Save-A-Pet just to bait Desi and the kids to get another dog. But thank you, he’s the best Christmas present we ever got.

I told Miss Verizon I would like to send my message now and pressed 9, and then I told her to send it with love and pressed 4.

Merry Christmas, Jack.