He is Jack.
Five years old as of today, and a full member of our small family. We don’t treat him like he is the dog - he’s just one of us. And he doesn’t behave like he’s the dog of the family. Our problems are his problems. However trivial they may seem, he tries to understand them and help solving them.
First, he’s the only one in this house dealing with spiders, mice, or other pests. He noticed our reluctance to sort those creatures, so he stepped in. When there’s a spider, we call the only male in the family. He sorts that out.
When we can’t find the car keys, the house keys, or other keys, which happens often, he gets off his couch, lets an annoyed “aaaa—ah!” off then proceeds to find the keys for his girls. He never fails.
He’s the one to “answer” when someone knocks at the door, to patrol the yard and make eye contact with the neighbors. As my previous neighbors put it, “he’s the man of the house”.
He checks on my child several times per night: he gingerly gets off my bed, then goes check on my daughter, and I can hear a sigh of relief before he cuddles back next to me. Every single night.
He tried to refine his role even more, but living in a dog’s body didn’t help: he broke three keyboards and a mouse before understanding he can’t use computers. He’s still watching TV or sitting on a chair next to me when I am online: network safety matters.
I didn’t expect him to take on this role. We just wanted a puppy. We had several dogs before - they were just that, dogs, doing doggy stuff. He’s one of a kind.
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