Meet my dog, Jackson.  I acquired him from the local shelter along with his “bunkmate,” Abby (with the red collar).  Abby was a great-looking Labrador mix, with an estimated age of 10 or 11 years.  She and Jackson, who was thought to be about four years old, arrived at the shelter together and appeared to have been living together for some time prior to that.  Since Abby and Jackson were already a pair, I took them both.  They had been starved and were very thin, so both were quite happy with my program of extra rations until they were back to normal weights.

It seemed that they had been abused.  Correspondingly, they were fearful for the first few months.  Eventually, they warmed up to their new lives in my home.  Abby lived two more years before developing liver disease.  When you adopt an older dog, you are signing up to be the rest home and hospice provider.  It is worth it, however, and I was pleased to give her a happy and healthy final two years.

Part Dalmatian, Jackson had the nervousness that sometimes accompanies this breed.  His mistreatment left him fearful of any new noise, all sticks and brooms, and sudden movements.  His fear was a bit disabling and was significantly worse after the loss of Abby.  He seemed uncertain with changes to the routines, and would hide in the closet if I was cooking, cleaning, opening a package, or most anything else that he was not expecting.  Of course, if you experienced my cooking, you would likely have hidden with him! 

Nonetheless, Jackson was my constant shadow in every movement around the house.  I have a theory about why that was. Check it out in the next post on Jackson.