Jeff
Date of Passing: 06/03/2025
Message to Jeff: When Jeff was a puppy, the folks at his daycare had to give him frequent time-outs. Not because he was misbehaving, but because all he wanted to do was play. He didn’t know when it was time to rest, so they had to make that decision for him.
That’s the way Jeff approached life. Full of joy. Always all in. Even as the physical ailments mounted over the last few years, he just kept going and going and going. This week, it was our turn to decide for him. It was time to rest.
Jen and I have had Jeff for almost as long as we’ve been married. He was our first child. At times, he was our favorite child. It’s hard to imagine our family without him.
For Marlowe, it will be even harder. She’s never known a world without Jeff. He was her big brother and best friend. She learned how to talk by talking to Jeff. She learned how to read by reading to Jeff. She napped on him, gave him make-overs, dressed him in ridiculous outfits, and hugged him until it hurt.
When Marlowe played teacher, Jeff was her student. When she played bride, Jeff was her groom. When she played doctor, Jeff was her patient. Whatever Marlowe had in store for him, Jeff took it like a champ — even when Dr. Marlowe checked his reflexes and sent him to the hospital for having “too much fur.”
I could write a book about how amazing Jeff was. But if I had to sum him up in one sentence, it would be this: Jeff made people happy. And he did it better than anyone I’ve ever known.
Everywhere we went, I saw the effect Jeff had. People would point and smile through restaurant windows as we passed. Strangers often stopped us to say hi, pet him, or take his picture. More than once, people even pulled over and hopped out of their cars — engine running — just to ask what kind of dog he was.
These small, everyday moments happened all the time. And every so often, I’d be reminded they weren’t so small to everyone.
Like the time a woman I didn’t recognize asked if my dog’s name was Jeff. When I asked her how she knew, she explained that her best friend’s son had taken a picture with him a few weeks earlier, and hadn’t stopped talking about it since.
Then there was the time a woman in our neighborhood who sold StreetWise — a magazine written and sold by people experiencing poverty and homelessness in Chicago — wrote a cover story about a typical day in her life. And we were pictured alongside her on the cover. She summed up her relationship with Jeff beautifully.
“What makes Jeff unique is that he takes his ‘work’ seriously. He starts to pull on his leash when he sees me. Then presses up against my side. I hug him and tell him all my secrets. Then I say, ‘Okay, you’ve done a good job’ and off he goes, wagging that plume and checking back over his shoulder periodically to make sure I’m okay. I’ve encouraged his family to make a real therapy dog of him, so we shall see what happens.”
Well, we did make him a therapy dog. It always felt like something he was meant to do, and we felt a responsibility to share him with the people who needed him most.
For years, Jeff and I made weekly visits to St. Joseph’s Hospital, where he helped bring comfort to people in the oncology department and inpatient headache clinic. He loved his job as much as the patients loved seeing him.
Even a few minutes with Jeff could make someone’s whole day better. And we were lucky enough to spend fifteen years with him. For this, I will always be grateful.
I’m going to miss our walks, playing fetch in the park, and making friends I never would have talked to if not for Jeff. Mostly, I’ll miss the times we spent just sitting together, doing nothing but enjoying each other’s company.
Farewell, my friend.
Tell us about Jeff:
Jeff loved to make people happy.