Jiggs

Just before my high school graduation my bf at the time wanted to get me a grad gift. I remember very distinctly telling him not a puppy. My parents and I did not need another dog (we had 7) and I knew that his parents had a new litter of Pomeranian puppies looking for homes. So I had an idea of what his plan was and told him no puppies.

A few weeks later, I had a new puppy. A tiny ball of fluff. He could fit in my dad's shirt pocket. My mom named him Jigger. The name fit, as he was a tiny, dancing ball of fluff.

Alas, I moved away a couple months later and could not bring him along. From day one he wasn't my dog, however. He claimed my dad, and my dad fell for him. Forever more he was my fathers dog.

It's true what they say, that dogs and owners reflect each other. Jiggs would never leave my fathers side, and bark like crazy if dad left without him. He rode in the milk crate on the quad with him and at meal times would be found at my dads feet, waiting for his share. He was loyal as only a dog can be.

Jiggs is gone now. He passed while I was away, and even though he was never truly my dog he leaves a hole where a tiny fluffy dog used to be. It's a cruel joke, how you can become so attached to a dog and their lifespan will never match your own. I guess that's part of the reason why they mean so much to you.