Who’s ready for some good news?
Well, I have some to share. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Percy Vizsla. He was born in Hillsboro, Ohio on September 22, 2021.
It’s an honor to introduce you to him first. He will be, as Jasper was, your dog, too.
Percy’s the newest member of the Fox family, and we’re just starting to get to know each other. He’s remarkably good and smart. And quite the heart mender, too.
Ever since Jasper passed away in September, Peter and I have blown away by your kindness and generosity. We’ve read every card, appreciated every painting and craft, and marveled at the donations you made in his name to charities across the country.
You are the most generous fans, and you lifted us up when we needed it most.
Jasper was only nine-years-old when we lost him. We thought we had a few more years to love on him and to share him with you. A few more years to talk about him on air. And a few more years for Greg Gutfeld (!) to tease me about it.
Alas, he went to heaven long before we expected. We have missed him so much. Jasper was a legend. One heck of a dog. Thanks to all of you for loving him as we did.
I know so many of you have also gone through the grieving of a loved pet. It is yet another of our shared experiences. Dogs and cats rarely outlive us — it’s part of the deal. And even though you know how bad it’s going to hurt when they die one day, you know it’ll all be worth it — for the love you shared. You get back twice as much.
That’s one of the things the late Charlies Krauthammer told me after our first Vizlsa, Henry, died: “Why do we do this to ourselves? But the truth is….how can we not?”
The lead up to bringing Percy home was a very hard secret to keep. Getting a puppy is so exciting. But it was also hard to talk about it — for fear that if I did, that would diminish Jasper’s memory. But we knew that Jasper would want us to be joyous — and for us, Vizslas make our house our home.
Well, Peter has only ever known one Percy in his life, when he was 18 working in a pub in northern England. Every afternoon and evening, a World War I veteran would come in and brush the snooker table (UK’s version of pool), preparing it for the next crowd that would filter into the bar.
He was given a pint of beer each time, and he’d sit and regale all the guys with tales of growing up in the late 1800s in England, and a little about the war — never the difficult and terrible times, but the camaraderie amongst the soldiers. Peter loved listening to him.
So in our tradition of good olde English names, Percy it is.