48- the number of miles I drove to get Jackson from the rescue pound a week before Christmas.
1- he was the 1st gift I gave Tiffany for our first Christmas
7- the number of patio chairs he chewed holes through as a puppy
92- the number of m&ms he ate one night when we were out.
35- the mph we clocked him running at when we moved to the island
0- the number of frisbees he caught in the air
100- the number of frisbees he chewed up
6- the number of kids he tried to pull down from the zipline but only got their shirts or pants
500- the number of times He got into the trash
14- the number of hotdogs he ate in one night
Thousands- the number of campers and kids that he brought a smile to every day
Jackson is not dead. He will always be alive. With every Fed Ex or trash truck that comes on the island, when the goats get out of their pen at wander up to the mp, whenever Mr. Mullinex drives his big truck out for pick up or when a family of deer run by, we will still hear the high pitched bark of Jackson echoing through the river basin.
When we brought him home from the vet he got out of the car and ran for the woods- just like he always does. He ran far- chasing a deer or rabbit- who knows- but he ran far. He took off running and never looked back. He was happy. Happy to see each of you every morning of summer camp. Happy when you shared your lunch with him. Happy when you rubbed his belly. Maybe you’ll see him from time to time chasing them deer or barking at the trash truck. For he’s forever alive- in our hearts.
-Nick Wimmer
