Onyx Jacks: 1989-2002
By Brian Jacks
The following is reprinted from January 17, 2002, the day after Slushfactory.com relaunched from a year-long hiatus
While yesterday's hit-filled second day of Slush should have been a festive occasion, the enthusiasm of the moment was shattered by the relatively unexpected loss of my dog, Onyx. Cancer finally claimed her life at the delicate age of 12, a day before my birthday no less.
Born into humble surroundings on Long Island, New York, Onyx moved to join her family in Northern California. She followed us to Muskegon, Michigan, and then to our current, and her final, destination in Charlottesville, Virginia.
It's fairly clichéd for a dog-owner to claim that their pet was different, but Onyx really was. She had no interest in other dogs; the barking of neighborhood colleagues would be entirely ignored, although she would occasionally glance up as if to shrug, "What are these idiots barking at?" Onyx fancied herself as close to a person as a dog could possibly get, and it always stood her apart from any dog I've ever met, or ever will meet. Always the dignified canine, Onyx would momentarily deviate from said behavior to engage in the sporadic squirrel chase.
There are countless memories that will always stand out: arguably the foremost occurring as we stood on the back deck on a lazy October day in 1989. She suddenly started running in circles, barking like mad. Seconds later the ground shook, and I was knocked off my feet by the Bay Area's largest earthquake in almost a century.
When all's said and done, however, the memories are beyond endless, and will certainly be remembered for the rest of my life.
See ya, Onyx. It's been fun.
Taken two days before her death