The Tiny Love Of My Life

4.8kg of pure joy and happiness

I was wracking my brains about what to write my newsletter on this week, and then I realised it was staring me in the face.

Literally.

I can’t quite believe it but I’ve never written here at length about the tiny love of my life, one Jacko Notaro Carlyle. That’s bizarre, because he is my constant companion, daily source of joy and the thing I love most in the world (besides his human father, of course). At 13 years old (or 91 in dog years), he is short on teeth and going greyer by the day, but he is as rowdy as a mere six year old and has the biggest heart of any creature I’ve ever known, evidenced by the fact that he simply must be holding my hand 90% of the time.

Jacko came in to my life in 2012. I was leaving my first Big Girl job in publishing because my ambition had grown, and had been contemplating a move to London. For myriad reasons, I decided to stay put in Dublin and to adopt a dog of my own. I hadn’t had one since I’d left home four years previously, and had really been missing a fur baby in my life. I am simply BANANAS about dogs - I can’t pass one on the street, and nothing brings me more glee or exhilaration.

Off I trotted to Kildare Animal Foundation. My family had adopted our amazing terrier Molly from there 13 years before so I felt a kinship with the place. Not long after we arrived, a tiny wheaten Yorkie cross stuck her little paw out of the chicken wire fence and stuck her claws in to my hand. Dora had chosen me.

There was just one slight complication. Dora came with a little boyfriend called Jacko and he was obsessed with a squeaky toy and not paying much attention to me. Nobody knew their back story, but they had been found together in an abandoned yard, eating cigarette butts and rubbish to survive. Dora had been pregnant when they arrived at the centre, and had since given birth to a little black solo puppy called Miley. When that happens, it often means the dog parents are related (awks) so they presumed Dora and Jacko were perhaps litter mates. Either way, they couldn’t be separated from one another or all hell would break loose. Miley was adopted alone, and that left someone willing to take on two little terriers of indiscriminate age, breed and history.

Well, that somebody was me! I said sure, in for a penny, and after a home visit by the charity they came to live with me. The vet guessed they were about 1.5 years from their teeth, but couldn’t be sure. They were a handful at first and that’s putting it mildly. Dora had extreme separation anxiety and would scream the house down if I even left the room. Jacko was better behaved, but was aggressive towards men in general. He had a damaged ear and it was suspected the poor baby had been beaten, so it was totally understandable.

With a lot of love, attention, training and patience, they settled down and the three of us got along great. I was newly freelance so had time to devote to them.

That was 12 years ago this summer, a fact I can’t actually believe. I’d been in a relationship that ended, but I had two furry housemates for company living alone. Soon after we all met Joe and and fell head over heels for him. We moved to Stoneybatter in October 2013, Joe joined us the following summer. Dora’s issues lessened, although she could still be an absolute weapon (as many girl dogs are!). She and Joe had a very special bond, while Jacko and I were naturally closer but we all absolutely adored one another. The greatest present I have ever received in my life is this custom cushion Joe commissioned:

We lost Dora in May 2022. It was a very sudden and short illness, and we were (and still are) absolutely devastated. We were really worried about Jacko and how he’d react to her absence. I’d heard horror stories about dogs dying of a broken heart after losing their lifelong companion. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Actually, we were kinda freaked out by just how fine he was. He was a very merry widower, the little sh*t. Anything was better than him pining for her though. I’m bawling writing this, I miss her every single day.

Ever since, Jacko and I have become even closer if that’s possible. When I left my full time job to go freelance last year, I didn’t really worry about being lonely at home because I knew I’d have my little bud. Jacko ADORES being an only dog child because he is a hoor for attention and for my attention specifically. We are joined at the hip, or perhaps the lap is more accurate. He understands me and I understand him like we’re speaking the same language.

There isn’t a song I haven’t rejigged to include his name. My favourite is “I Am Jacko’s Mammy” to the tune of The One And Only by Chesney Hawkes. I’ve created a mythology around him going to Cutie School and graduating with pawnours. He makes me an even more ridiculous person.

Jacko is SUCH a good boy, practically angelic. The only bold thing he does sometimes is poop in the bathroom if it’s raining - Tiny Gentlemen do not defecate in precipitation! No, they do so in the room designed for pooping, duh!

Otherwise he is perfect. People smile at him every time he’s on a walk because he has such a joyful strut. He loves other dogs so much, especially Frenchies and other tiny floofs. If he meets a Chihuahua, he is beside himself with excitement at meeting a woof smaller than him. He loves squeaky toys (especially rubber ducks), duck fillet treats from Aldi and squishy blankets. He enjoys fashion, especially menswear and lives to watch Joe get dressed. He has quite a spiffy collection of sweater vests and t-shirts for when it gets chilly. He also has an oral fixation which means he wants to lick everyone and everything endlessly. I’ve probably been snogged by him more times than by my husband.

I haven’t stopped silently weeping as I write, because I’m so grateful for my tiny dude. I just love dogs so much, and truly feel we don’t deserve them. I would love to adopt a puppy, but my guy is just too thrilled being an only dog and I wouldn’t do anything to disturb his happiness in his twilight years.

He’s a healthy, spry fella and his vet thinks he’s got a good few miles left in the tank. I really hope she’s right. I want him to inexplicably take up the entire king-size bed with his foot-long body for as long as physically possible. I want to be licked incessantly against my will, and have my hand held by his tiny paw forever.

I’m aware that this newsletter may come across as slightly unhinged to non pet people, and that’s okay! We’re all different. Animals are my happy place, and always have been so I’m a little crazy about them. I’m fine with it.

Adopt, don’t shop. Although I do want it noted that I was allergic to Dora for the entire decade I had her, and may need to own a totally hypoallergenic woof in the future. Mr Perfect Jacko doesn’t murder my nasal passages, but that’s down to dumb luck (and him being perfect, obvs).

Here’s to my special little guy.