[Dailydrool] Pw. Jacques--the hound, the legend (long)

[Sherrilyn]

My deepest gratitude to everyone who has sent words of sympathy on the death of Pw. Jacques. His health had been declining, and I didn't really post much about him recently, but I've been amazed at the number of people who have commented how much they enjoyed reading his escapades.

Jacques was 6 years old and already had a white face and "old man" demeanor when I adopted him from BROOD in December 2001. The story I got on him was that he had been bounced around several homes and turned in for snapping at a child. And they told me that he'd do best in a home as an only dog. Boy, was that the truth!! When I went to his foster mom's home to meet him, I found a skinny, funny-looking, quiet, mousy hound who loved being petted but didn't want the other bassets in the house to enjoy my attention. I wasn't sure about adopting him, but she really "sold" him, and I ended up taking him home. They told me his name was Jock (as in strap), but I decided on the ride home that he held his head in a very regal and refined way and he needed a more refined name. In the event he was used to the name Jock, I decided to Frenchify it, and thereafter he was called Jacques.

Jacques was a mild, meek fellow who stuck to me like glue, except when he sneaked off to pee or poop. He hated being left alone (especially in a crate) and registered his vigorous protest by large-scale peeing and pooping. It got better over the years, but he never fully stopped that behavior. Once he started feeling more comfortable in his forever home, his OEBE tendencies began to manifest themselves. His foster mom had told me about the Daily Drool, and I was soon caught up in the cult.  

Jacques was the OEBE Minister o' Misbehavin' and was an avid participant in the OEBE-BABiES rivalry. Even as he got older and creakier, he managed to maintain his rascally ways. I got back from vacation on the 20th of this month, and a couple of days later, he got into my open-but-not-unpacked suitcase and ate more than half of a pounder bag of Twizzlers. A couple of days after that, he was running errands with me (so he wouldn't have to stay home alone), and I left him in the back seat of the car with a papaya on the floor. When I got home, I discovered that he had pulled the bag of papaya up on the seat with him and he had eaten a large fist-sized chunk out of the top of the fruit.

Jacques had no use for other bassets, and was shockingly snarky when I took him to his first BROOD Ramble. Nevertheless, Jacques always tried to help other homeless hounds find new homes. He participated in several Rambles, tried to be king in Mishgun, and I was going to take him to BoardWaddle one year, but he had emergency surgery to remove a chunk of leather from his intestines that weekend. Although I found may of his leather "snacks" (including a brand new pair of red slingbacks--not that I'm still bitter) I never did figure out where that particular piece of leather came from.  

Jacques was probably most famous for his international travel. He lived in Panama for 2 years; hence, the moniker Panama Jacques. He had lived in Colombia since 2005. When I took him back to the U.S. at the end of my tour in Panama, the timing coincided with the 2005 Mishgun Waddle. My mom, Jacques, and I made the drive up from oHIo to attend, and she was amazed at the number of people who squealed, "Is that really Panama Jacques?!?" Unfortunately, he had contracted some tropical disease in Panama that changed his personality, and he became snarky with people, too, so he got all Sean Penn with those who tried to pet him. Before we moved to Panama, he used to volunteer with Pets on Wheels and was very popular with the elderly residents we visited.

Because of his dislike for being left alone, and because we were then living in apartments, Jacques had dog nannies in Panama and Colombia.  He allowed them to pet and walk him...as long as I wasn't around. He didn't like anyone touching him when I was around. In spite of his quirks, his nannies were quite devoted to him, and stayed with him when I went on vacation. Even the doormen of my building here liked Jacques and allowed him to curl up in a corner with them when I went out for an evening so he wouldn't have to stay all alone in the apartment.

One of the most-remembered stories about Jacques, and the one which garnered his Pw. title, was the elevator escapade. He somehow hurt his foot when we were out walking one afternoon in Panama.  I couldn't see anything wrong with it, but it hurt, and I ended up having to carry him a block and a half home in the heat and humidity of that miserable country.  He refused to walk at all that evening when it was time to go out for his final potty break.  Not wanting to have to hoist him again, I ended up putting him on my wheeled office chair and pushing him out into the hall, down 18 flights in the elevator, across the lobby, and outside to a grassy strip to do his business.

I really miss my grumpy old man.  It was so weird to cook dinner the other night and not have to step over a lump of dog 50 times. But I know he's healthy and friendly at the bridge and is having a grand OEBE time with Noah, Homer, Syd, Rhett, Beau, and all the others.

Rest in Peace, Jacques.  Nov. 15, 1995-Jan. 28, 2009



      
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