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Author: Jacob Swift
Swift is a US Postman, writer, RPG player, husband, and father, based in a small town in Louisiana. After ten years of not seeking publication, he’s decided to try again. In the meantime, he works a manual labor job and cares for his family.
This blog site is a spot for him to put his notes and thoughts down, as well as brag about his family’s accomplishments.
I’ve been pretty quiet on here for several days. I admit, I’ve been down some dark roads in my head, just waiting for the road to recovery to show. That’ll be a long while, however.
Unfortunately, the old adage that depression can affect your physical health has proven quite true. I’ve been hit with a wickedly strong chest cold recently, and I’m no longer at the age where I can shrug that off quickly or ignore it.
If the cough doesn’t subside, I’ll be without my voice for a while, I think.
Gonna make some challenging sessions in the near future. Pray for my players, folks.
Indiana knows there’s a lot missing in the house nowadays. With his vision mostly gone, and his mental faculties fading, he’s gotten more confused ever since Jojo died.
But he knows where to go when that confusion gets to him. He’s been staying nearby me more often, and barks if I leave the room.
It’s one of those times that I admit that my heart is broken and my soul lost a part of itself. I’ve heard it said that humans will pack-bond with all manner of creatures, but I will steadfastly stand by the old phrase: “Dog is Man’s Best Friend.”
How do I know this? By spending over ten years of my life with Jojo being a constant part of it.
Sleepy puppy
Joseph “JoJo” was born on March 22, 2012. Joe was special all on his own, of course, but for me, he held a truly unique post in my life: he was the first dog that I, and I alone, actively sought out and chose to take into my world. I worried that Casey would want a companion around to play with, as at that time I was still a hopeless bachelor. I decided to go out looking for a second dog to have around. JoJo came up in my searches. I met the folks who were selling his litter, talked it over with them, and asked for who would become Joe.
In May, he was brought down to Louisiana, and I got to meet him for the first time. He immediately clambered into my lap and curled up for a nap.
His first night, and already too big for that bed.
It’s selfish of me to say it, as he meant so much to so many, but he was my dog.
There were worries given to me that I brought home a second male puppy when I already had a male dog under my roof, but those folks forgot that these were Goldens. They bonded with each other and we were our own little pack for years.
He was accepted almost immediately.
I had planned to take Joe camping and hunting with me, but life always disagreed with this wish, leading me to never have that experience. In an ironic twist, it was probably for the best; Joe hated water. I never figured out why, though he loved sinks in his younger years (preferably dry).
But why, though?
As the years passed, and family grew, Joe was always at my side, ready to play, to walk, even to defend us from the perceived threats of squirrels or birds in the yard.
Worn out from play-time.
Jojo had one of the purest souls I’ve had the privilege of witnessing and was welcoming and patient with our children as they grew. But as they grew, he grew old.
Jojo had a tumor on his leg that had ruptured before his twelfth birthday. Surgery was not possible, as the tumor was right at an elbow joint and wrapped around major blood vessels. Amputation wasn’t an option, as it would have ruined his quality of life, at his age. I decided to go with palliative care, treating him at home helping him manage his pain until the end.
When that end came, I knew I wasn’t ready. Not again. But I shoved that selfishness away. It was his time, and he couldn’t go quickly like Casey had. He needed… help along the way.
Last meal was steak and potatoes, and he was full for the first time I had ever known.
On April 9, 2024, we took Jojo to the vet after having made arrangements. I took the day off to uphold my promise to not leave him until he had left us. We all took the day to say our goodbyes.
One last ride in the 4Runner
From the moment we entered the vet, Jojo did not leave physical contact with me, and I was happy to reciprocate.
His last photo
When the time came, Sarah and I were sitting with him, telling him all the while how good a boy he had been, how grateful we had been that he was in our lives, and that we’d miss him.
“You did great, old man,” I said. “You can rest now.”
He gave one last sigh. He was gone. I broke again.
It’ll be a long time before I recover from these months.
Won’t be writing today. JoJo needs to go to the vet.
One last time.
…goddammit.
Stay safe out there, folks.
-JB Swift
Edit: I had this written first thing in the morning, but walked away from the computer to play with my dog. Sorry it’s a day late. I’ll write a proper eulogy post for Joe after the day shift. Cheers.
Management would probably say otherwise, but I have a Union that argued for us to get regular days off, so there.
While I will be tackling what chores I can, the weather is rolling in with rain, so further yard work will be put on hold. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a list of indoor chores for me to handle, but…
If I don’t take just a little time during the day to write, banking on my evenings for that time, I’m going to wake up at 2AM at my desk again and be mad at myself for the habit.
We’re aiming for at least 1200 words today. That’ll get me into the writing rhythm again, maybe for the week!
Folks, I love the fact that I live out in a rural area. I really do. It’s usually pretty quiet, and I’ve preferred the open spaces as compared to a subdivision.
A consequence to having that space, however, is the maintenance. With Springtime officially (by way of the weather) hitting the Southern US, it’s time for the First Mow.
4 acres of land… this’ll be an all-day, all-family-involved event.
Stay safe out there, folks. I gotta go get the riding mower checked out.
A Saturday night that hasn’t surrendered to the chaos of adult living!
I can be irresponsibly responsible!
Trust me, it makes sense. Ask your neurodivergent friends.
I’ll be able to step back into Zino’s Solo Arc and move that story a little bit forward, tonight. After that, I’ll be answering a question I’ve had about the sci-fi novel that’s been bugging me: ‘how do you map out an interstellar empire’?
Han’s been asking about the “Classic” stories that ‘you read when you were a kid, dad!’, so I went out to the storage building and grabbed an old, old collection.
I’ve been carrying around these Raintree books since I was probably about Han’s age. Ben’s getting to the point where he wants to know about these stories, so he’ll soon be reading these, as well.
It’s a small moment of pure joy, seeing the books you grew up reading being read by your children.
I’m not entirely sold on that title, but it did make me laugh.
I am emphatically not an artist in the traditional sense. I cannot tell you how many times I have warned my players “this is not to scale” when drawing out an idea.
That said, I will keep trying!
That’s an old picture. I swear I’ve made progress…cue anxiety…
Swift's Corner 