This man’s best friend passed away last week at the age of 13. Jack (named Jacques when he was rescued) was a virtual Montrose ambassador, spending more of his waking hours there than anywhere else. When he was a puppy, kids called him the polar bear of Montrose. As he matured, adults started calling him the Prince of Honolulu. People called him all different things: Cloud, Cotton Candy, Q-tip, Traveler, a horse, and so on. He was all those, but mostly he was a magnificent companion to my wife and me.

Jack was born in south LA, one of 11 puppies in an “accidental” backyard breeding of two show dogs. The breeder sold seven of them but decided the two largest and two smallest were not of show dog quality so she turned them in to the local animal shelter, a kill facility that would have put down these puppies if no one adopted them within a few days. Fortunately, Alyce Russell from Glendale Humane Society found them first and took them to Glendale, housing them in the front window of Andersen’s Pet Shop in Montrose to keep them safe.

The puppies lived there for almost eight weeks, starting in December 2007. That’s where we saw them and fell in love with … Toulouse, the smallest of the four. Jacques was the largest of the four and standoffish and had zero interest in me. While the other three would form an adorable puppy pile, Jacques would lay away from them. Two local high school girls took them for walks in Montrose while the puppies grew old enough to get their shots and finally be adopted.

We were still mourning the loss of our previous dog and weren’t sure we were ready to take on a puppy, but our college-aged daughter convinced us we were ready. We put our name on the adoption list, with my heart set on Toulouse. But Jacques got one look at our daughter and latched on to her, cuddling and licking her. He didn’t like me, though. Alyce carefully matched the dogs to the families on the adoption list and, for reasons I’ll never understand (but for which I am oh so grateful), she picked us. And she picked Jacques for us, not Toulouse. Our daughter was thrilled; I wasn’t so sure.

Alyce included two private training sessions with Paul Owens as part of the adoption. (You’ve probably seen Paul in the Andersen’s parking lot training dog owners.) Jacques growled and barked at me when we took him home. He only wanted to be around my wife and daughter. Paul told me that I needed to play games with him, to let him chase me.

After just a few chases, Jacques thought I must be okay. And we slowly became best friends. Even though my wife and I both speak a little French, we felt uncomfortable calling him Jacques, so we switched his name to Jack – much to the chagrin of my nephew Jack.

We walked Jack in Montrose twice a day, and he became a fixture there. Everyone seemed to know him even if they didn’t know us. Since his parents were both show dogs, he was gorgeous – but too big to be a show dog. (And he never lost his all baby teeth, which would have disqualified him, but this gave him a great, unique smile.) When we brought him home, we had no idea he would grow so tall, taller than me when he stood on his hind legs. He had long legs and a barrel chest, and, like most poodles, he pranced most of the time rather than just walk. And being all white with that fluffy fur, he attracted attention everywhere he went. If friends joined us on a walk, they couldn’t believe how many times we were stopped by people who wanted to pet him or take his photo. My wife called him “Brad Pitt on a leash.”

Jack was not a lap dog by any means, nor did he like it if we tried to cuddle with him. Only our daughter could do that. But he showed serious affection during walks. He would lean his large head into a thigh and rub it around. He was tall enough that we could rub his head then without having to bend over. He seemed to be aware of giving equal head rubbing time to both my wife and me.

Jack had his favorite Montrose stores. He loved Once Upon a Time even though he was afraid of Pippi, the store cat, who would jump out at him from hiding places and box his ears before hiding again. And he loved making treat “withdrawals” at Chase bank. He loved Twigs and Things and Mountain Rose … so many interesting things to smell. He loved the women at Merle Norman. He loved Jeannie and Chris at Casa Córdoba. But his favorite thing to do in Montrose was join us for tea at Coffee Bean or Starbucks. He thought the water from these two places was far better than the water in his bowl at home. And he loved watching the human and dog parade that walked by, especially during the Harvest Market on Sundays.

A few years ago, Holiday Hats and Gowns had some amazing animal head masks in the window for Halloween. One was a white poodle, which my wife insisted on buying. For Halloween, she dressed all in white wore this mask and took Jack to the Montrose Halloween festivities. Everyone loved it. And in the Montrose Christmas Parade that year, we walked with the CV Dog Park group, this time with me wearing the mask and Jack putting up with my barking and pretending to look like him. Since then, total strangers have come up to us and told us how much they enjoyed that.

When the pandemic closed much of Montrose this year, Jack noticed. No more breaks at the coffee shops. People weren’t petting him as usual because they were afraid of spreading COVID. This clearly bothered him and, of course, he couldn’t understand what was happening. When things reopened, his spirits picked up. He was getting pet again. And while Coffee Bean never reopened their outside seating, we were at least able to sit at the corner table at Starbucks a few times, and he was so happy lying there, waiting for people and dogs to say hello.

When we adopted Jack, we were told to expect a lifespan of 11-12 years. But we would meet people who had had standard poodles that lived to 15 and 16 so we hoped Jack would be one of them. We were so grateful when he got to 12 with little change but, by the time he got to 13 in October, we saw him slow down. He started to have trouble walking on our hardwood floors, slipping on them when he tried to move quickly. Toe grips helped, but then he started having trouble getting in or out of the car; I would have to lift him. And in the last few weeks, he would cut his walk short. He would just stop walking and wait for me to figure out he wanted to go home.

He seemed to know the end was near in the last two weeks. He would stop in front of his favorite places in Montrose and insist we take him inside for a pet. We thought this was quirky and charming and related to the new pandemic closings, but when he collapsed last Tuesday, we wondered if maybe he had been trying to say good-bye.

I know we gave Jack a good life, but he gave us an even better one. And we will miss you, buddy, the Prince of Honolulu.
Robert Newcombe