Born May 15, 2012, he rescued us on December 22, 2013, and we held his head and said goodbye Sunday, August 11, 2024. It’s crazy to think about a decade of life with this quirky, loyal, sometimes grumpy, always adventurous brat that I consider one of the greatest loves of my life.

When we made the trip from Paris, Kentucky to Louisville to meet this adolescent Rottie ‘with a few behavior challenges’, we had no idea the adventures that were coming. Truth be told, Mikey would have “returned to sender” multiple times that first year! 

He came with the name Jackson, and within 24 hours of adoption, Action became his first name. He had already puked all over Mikey’s truck, where I had to physically restrain all 90 pounds of him in my lap to keep him from attempting to run zoomies in the cab of our pick-up. He wouldn’t stop sniffing and humping his new brother, and annoying his new sister, and clearly had no idea what grass was or how to run and play.  The first night, I slept (an exaggeration) on the couch holding him with a leash, while Mikey went to bed in our bedroom with Noah and Roxie so they could all get a little rest and reprieve from this wild beast.

Jackson’s first year was a mostly self-induced journey of discipline, coupled with adventures that he delighted in, and some hard lessons in obedience. He wanted no part of crate training and seemed to outsmart me a few times before he earned a 1000 zip-tied, multiple double snap hooked crate with no frills… because he ate the frills. Beds or mats in the crate, he ate them. Something nice on top of the crate, he sucked it into the crate and ate it. The nice recliner that was not far enough away from the crate for him to bounce his way over to it (in the crate) and eat the nice cushion arm off through the crate, yep, please enjoy our one-arm recliner, courtesy of Jackson.

When he did escape that crate in our absence, he wanted the trash. Every piece of trash. Some of it he ate, so then it decorated the yard, but mostly he decorated the house with trash any chance he got. Once, he decided on a potato massacre instead of trash. We came home with a full bag of red potatoes, and we took 1 bite out of every potato scattered throughout the house.

The boot massacre took the cake though. Before I was home from a work event one night, Mikey fell asleep in the recliner, and since I was not wearing my favorite (and very new) pair of boots, they obviously seemed like a great chew toy. I dragged him, and the eaten boot, out on the porch for a ‘disciplinary discussion’ with him and the boot since Mikey was asleep and we didn’t want to wake him.  (I also ordered another pair of those exact boots.)

2 broken Suburban window incidents, 1 diarrhea in the back seat of the truck episode, 4 too many skunk encounters, he could hang his head in apology and endure all the Action Jackson shaming photos – then he always made up for it by entertaining the masses any chance he had to sing to Gwen Stefani’s Sweet Escape. 

Once we survived the initial trials and tribulations of an out-of-control, untrained, intact, adolescent male, and provided some safety, structure, and schedule, (along with a snip), we began seeing a willing dog start falling in love with life.  

The farm life with Mikey brought it all together. Life on the gator, checking cows, working in the shop, fixing fences, mowing, making hay… Jackson LOVED life outside.  He learned to be a traveler, a camper, a racetrack dog, a farm dog, and a horse event dog. He traveled more than most people ever get to travel. (He even stopped throwing up in vehicles after the first 6 months.)

He wasn’t a social butterfly, he didn’t love a party, and he merely tolerated most people. He loved a squeaky tennis ball the most, he loved his life, he loved his select people, and he was so damn thankful for the life lottery he hit. And I will always be so damn thankful for the Jackson lottery we hit.

Today, I picked up his ashes. I am sad, but I will be okay. Ultimately, our pets, whether dogs, horses, cats, or otherwise, give us the very best days and moments of our lives, and one of the very worst days. My heart broke last week, and it will heal… with a Jackson-sized hole in it.   

My constant companion. My greatest adorer. My unconditional love. Jackson was crazy about his family, and never wanted us to be apart. I’ve never seen a dog so visibly content as when we were all together.  To all who knew him, thank you for being part of his story.

Godspeed Action Jackson. Life won’t be the same without you, but I’ll see you when I get there.

All our love, forever. 

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”  ~Winnie the Pooh