Jake!

Now look at that photograph.  Is that a face that anyone could dislike?  It’s the very picture of innocence, of loving graciousness, of sweetness and light.  And yet no one likes Jake.  So it’s no wonder that Jake doesn’t like anyone else besides me.  Truly, it’s not her fault.

I inherited Jake when her previous owner had a severe asthma attach, which he had tried to avoid by bathing Jake several times a week and by having all of the feet declawed.  All four.  Poor Jake; that would put anyone off humans.  And he named her Jake after a dog he had had as a child; no matter that Jake is female.

And then once I got Jake, the abuse from visitors started immediately, most prominently from my brother, Ken.  Even though Jake never seemed to like people, she never missed the chance to circulate among my visitors and to let them know that she was the boss.  In those days I often had people over for breakfast--sometimes as many as twelve.  Jake always moved among my guests; but should any try to pet her, she would allow it for a few moments and then she would hiss and snarl and people would back off.  Except Ken.  He harassed her constantly when he was around; he paid for that on a number of occasions with bleeding hands: Jake has no claws but she can be very fast with her needle-sharp teeth.  But Jake truly had the last laugh with Ken: I was out of town and Ken was feeding her for me.  One afternoon he and his son, Travis, came by.  I had neglected to mention that sometimes Jake would await my arrival through the garage--by sitting atop the fridge.  Really, I did just forget to tell Ken; it was an honest mistake.  He and Travis entered only to be met by the loud hissing and snarling of Jake looking down at them from atop the fridge.  Oh I wish I could have seen it!  Apparently, they both came close to wetting themselves.  Jake, I have little doubt, was laughing and enjoying every minute of it.

I don’t entertain now that I’ve moved to Chicago.  One guest and my tiny apartment is too crowded.  Jake pretty much acts the same way with my few visitors.  My dear friend Roger is the most regular visitor; he and Jake stay away from one another, each keeping a wary eye out for the other.  Jake completely ignores Edwin, another visitor, by no longer even bothering to come into the living room.

But to me Jake is a complete sweetheart.  We have our rituals, including morning treats, evening canned food, and snuggling most of the night.  We play sometimes, and sometimes I bleed then, but that’s not meanness, that’s just romping around.  I never hold it against her nor punish her.  She gives me great joy, and as she ages and slows down--along with me--we are becoming even closer.  I can’t imagine not having Jake.  I’m sorry that others can’t see those aspects of her character.  Or that she won’t let them.

            Jake assisting me on the computer:         Jake sleeping on warm laundry: