Jagger was the first dog we got to know when we first moved here. He was a stand-out, not just because almost every other dog was something white and fluffy, or a mini-Schnauzer. Then, we only had one dog, a mini-Schnauzer, and still I couldn't tell the other mini-Schnauzers apart.
Jagger was a Jack Russell. But not just any JRT. He was the tallest JRT I've ever met. When eventually we had Rupert, Jagger towered over our fox terrier. (He humped him too. But then Roop gets humped a lot, even by Queeni.)
And after getting to know Jagger, we got to know his human. She was still in secondary school then, a quiet teenager. But a responsible one. You had to be when you're in charge of feeding, walking and looking after a JRT who knows what he wants. And so when a dogsitter bailed on us when we were about to leave for a holiday, she came over, stayed over and looked after our two.
We saw her grow up, finish school, go through polytechnic, graduate, and start working. Oh, and there was a boyfriend along the way. He lived in the next block, and they used to walk their dogs together, and then come up and play with ours. And then the boyfriend became an ex-boyfriend, and then there was another boyfriend.
And Jagger got old, got cancer and has passed on. We feel like we've lost a dog too. Soon, his markings on the grass, the lamp posts and pillars will fade. And Queeni and Rupert will no longer smell him. I'm sure they will remember him though. We are honoured that they are two of only three dogs (the third one being the ex-boyfriend's dog, that fluffy brown one in the picture) that Jagger never barked at, never tried to bite. Because we were all friends.
Goodbye, friend.
