My name is pronounced “Jacks,” but with an extra “x” at the end, like a big kiss from me to you 🙂

Now, some folks might call me a rescue dog (or even a rescued dog), but I prefer to think of myself as a canine Casanova who’s charmed my way into the hearts of several unsuspecting humans.

My story starts way back in 2016, when I was just a pup. My breeder, bless their misguided souls, thought it’d be a grand idea to sell me for a small fortune to some city slickers in Johannesburg who thought I was just a furry accessory. But city life ain’t for everyone. Turns out, they knew about as much about Huskies as a shark knows about quantum physics. Think boundless energy crammed into a furry torpedo with teeth – that’s me!

They tried to train me with bop-it-on-the-head tactics, which only made me nip their fingers in return. Eventually, I bit one of their kids a bit too hard, and that was it. They dumped me at Husky Rescue SA (HRSA), a place where they actually understand my kind.

Those rescue peeps at HRSA were alright, though. I bounced from one home to another, each one ending with me nipping at fingers and generally making a nuisance of myself. I wasn’t trying to be bad, I just had all this pent-up energy and no idea how to channel it.

Finally, I landed up in Cape Town in 2018. That’s when things got weird. This lady named Bev saw my pic on Facebook and thought, “That’s the lunatic for me!”. Bev figured I’d get along swimmingly with her other pets. Famous last words, right?

We met at this dog park, and let’s just say it was sniff city. Bev’s possessive dog, Benji, wasn’t too thrilled with my presence, growling like he was auditioning for the next Godzilla movie. But Bev, bless her heart, decided to give me a chance. So, I moved in with the pack in a place called Melkbosstrand.

Let me tell you, this family is a hoot! There’s Bev, the cat whisperer, Des (aka The Fossil), the dog walker extraordinaire, Chase, the womaniser, and their four furry fiends, Benji the Boerboel-pointer mix who thought he was king of the castle, Zizi the feisty Fox Terrier who could give any Chihuahua a run for its money, and two regal Grey Abyssinian cats, Tommy and Sassy.

Things were going swimmingly at first. I had a whole garden to zoom around in, Benji and I would have epic growling contests (although Zizi just ignored us both, the little madam). Bev spent hours grooming my thick undercoat, and The Fossil took us for endless walks twice a day. But then, disaster struck. Zizi, bless her furry heart, mistook Sassy for a rogue squirrel and chased her through the bushes with Benji in tow. Sadly, the poor kitty didn’t stand a chance (RIP Sassy, you fluffy angel).

And then, BAM! The world went crazy with this thing called “Covid.” Bev and Des, my humans, lost their jobs, and suddenly, our cozy life went belly up. That was just the beginning of our troubles. We had to move houses, not once, not twice, but three times! Each time, it was like musical chairs with our furniture, never knowing where we’d land next.

Then, the unthinkable happened. We got evicted – illegally – right in the middle of the Covid lockdown fiasco! Think nasty landlord, goons, the whole shebang. We ended up crammed in our car with Tommy the cat, driving around like homeless nomads.
Talk about ruff times!

But then, just when I thought all hope was lost, a miracle happened. Bev received a gift from a kind friend in the UK – enough money to book us into a pet-friendly hotel! Well, not all of us. There wasn’t enough room in the room, so Benji and Zizi stayed with a really nice pet loving couple close by.

So, there I was, lazing on the lawn outside the hotel room and thinking things couldn’t get any worse, when BAM! Another curveball. I spotted a squirrel running up the hotel road exit and bolted, dragging my leash and a lawn chair behind me like a furry comet. I followed a car that was exiting the gate and guess what came trotting along the main road at the same time? A horse! And let me tell you, that horse was not happy to see me.

We chased each other down the street, me yipping with excitement, the horse snorting like a tea kettle on steroids, and the rider deposited on her arse along the roadside. Eventually, we both ended up panting at the end of a dead-end road, me with a few bruised ribs (courtesy of the horse’s hooves), and the horse with a healthy dose of fear.

The horse’s owner went ballistic, of course. She wanted me put down, said I was a vicious beast who’d attacked her precious horsey. HRSA, the rescue peeps, weren’t too happy either. They swooped in, ready to take me away.

But Bev and Des wouldn’t have it. They adopted me officially, showing that horse lady who was really the boss. In the end, the horse was fine, and the owner shut her yap once she found out that Des knew that her nag had a pre-existing leg injury.

By this point, Bev’s gifted funds were rapidly being used up by legal fees and hotel bills. Finally, a court interdict arrived forcing the wayward landlord to release our stuff, which was loaded by a furniture removal company and placed into storage (minus some expensive appliances, which were left behind in compensation for rental arrears). While overseeing the furniture loading, Des noticed items missing from the home inventory (clearly these were the spoils awarded to the landlords thugs for a job well done!).

So we collected Benji (the kind couple in Camps Bay offered to keep Zizi with them until we settled somewhere) and drove to Johannesburg. Homeless and almost penniless, we sought sanctuary with family. But our pack had to split up. Bev, Benji, and Tommy ended up sharing a tiny garden cottage with their unmarried daughter, Candice, in Randburg while Des and I stayed with his sister, Patricia, in Alberton.

A few months later the furniture removal company auctioned off the family’s possessions to recover outstanding storage arrears. Des used some of what was left of the sale to take me on a long walk – from Plettenberg Bay to Cape Town no less! We really bonded on that month-long walk and managed to forget our troubles, for a while anyway. And we collected Zizi from the kind couple in Camps Bay and brought her back to Joburg.

But that stress-free time did not last long. When we got back to Alberton, Des’s sister was diagnosed with brain cancer. Tommy got lyme disease and Zizi got stomach cancer – both had to be euthanized. Patricia, passed away peacefully at the Stepping Stone Hospice in Alberton on March 5, 2022. Des’s niece, Dawn, subsequently sold the house, which left us homeless (again).

Thankfully, Des’s brother, Stanley, offered us sanctuary on his farm near Delmas, in Mpumalanga, where we can live and work for our keep. Not that I do any work, besides taking out 3 chickens in the first week of our arrival. Hey, they run, I chase, Things happen, right?

Anyway, I got on really well with Stan’s dog pack (two huskies, Kiki and Shadow, a greyhound, Dusty, and Lacy, a pint sized mix breed with a beautiful disposition (sadly, Kiki and Lacy have since also passed away).

I’ve finally realised that taking out chickens is not a good habit, even for the closest relative to Siberian Wolves. While I spend most of my day sleeping, Des keeps busy managing the farm’s free range egg business, doing maintenance work, collecting Pecan Nuts, and growing herbs & veggies – including Sativa and Indica – for medicinal purposes, of course! In his free time he does websites, like this one.

Life ain’t perfect, but it’s pretty darn good. I have plenty space to run around, I have a comfy thatched cottage to snooze in, get fed well, and I’m surrounded by people I love. What more could a dog ask for? Except for Bev and Des to finally reunite – then we’ll be a family pack again.

So, that’s my story. It’s been a wild ride, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’m Jaxx, the Husky with the extra “x” kiss, and I’m here to stay!

I hope you enjoyed my story! If you have any questions, feel free to ask. And if you ever see a red blur streaking down the street, tail wagging like a metronome on overdrive, that’s probably me. Come say hi!
I love making new friends. And no, I don’t bite, or even nip anymore – that’s history!

P.S. If you’re ever thinking about getting a Husky, please do your research. We’re not for everyone. We’re stubborn, we’re escape artists, and we have more energy than a toddler on a sugar high. But if you’re looking for a loyal, loving companion who will make you laugh every day, then a Husky might just be the perfect dog for you. Just don’t blame me if you end up with a chewed-up couch and a permanent case of Husky hair.

P.P.S. Check out the 2024 Namibia to Cape Town event. Des (aka The Fossil) is planning my next fundraising adventure.
And you can join us!