He was black. He was short, stocky, surly, and had a relationship problem with people. His name was Jack. He was my friend.
I needed an assistant. Times were lean in our state and the department wasn't much on new hires. That's how Jack and I came together. We met at the county's animal impound lot. An attendant was showing me about the grounds and we were nearing the end of the tour. We had walked down the long aisle of security cages, turned, and were making our way back down the aisle toward the entrance.
The rattling of a cage door startled me. I turned suddenly toward the cage on my right just as a large bulky beast body-slammed against the cage's door, rattling it again. I watched, fascinated, as the muscular Black Labrador ambled toward the rear of the cage, turned, and hurled himself at the cage's opening again as if he could tear the door from its hinges.
"Bad tempered, that one." The attendant's voice drew my attention from the dog. "We're putting him to sleep permanently tomorrow morning!"
The dog sat on his haunches in the middle of the cage. He watched us intently, never moving, just breathing deeply, his massive chest expanding with each new breath.
"Open the cage and let me in." I said.
The attendant's jaw dropped. "What? I don't think so. You don't want that animal. He's vicious!"
"Open the cage." I said again.
"Man, you can't be serious? You are serious! Man, I ain't gonna be responsible, you know. You really want in there?" The worker asked.
I nodded affirmatively.
The attendant opened the door allowing me to pass and then slammed it shut behind me. I heard his footsteps retreating down the hallway. The dog never moved. He just sat there, watching me, brown eyes never wavering, just waiting as if to say, "Alright, buster, you started it, now what?"
I squatted down, looking at the massive animal on his level. We stared at one another for a long moment. I balled my fist up and extended my arm toward Jack, passing my fisted hand slowly in front of his nose, letting him catch my scent. He never blinked, never took his eyes off my face. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his right paw. I grasped it, shook it, and we formed a bond that day, Jack and I.
I opened the cell's gate and walked down the hallway between the cages. Jack fell into stride, two steps behind me and two steps to the right, and we marched down the hall, past the reluctant attendant, and out the front door.
I lowered the tailgate on my pickup. Jack jumped up into the bed of the truck, chose a position behind the cab, placed his forefeet on the bedrail and looked at me as if to say, "Okay, let's move it out of here!"
The dog never moved from that position until we reached home and I lowered the tailgate. At that instant I decided to see if he was gun shy. I drew my pistol and fired just as his feet touched the ground. Jack took off on a dead run straight to the impact point of the bullet, stopped, turned toward me, and cocked his head. You could see the question forming behind his eyes and then the awareness of what I had done. His lips curled slightly into a sardonic smile.
I grinned. This was going to be some dog. But man, did he stink! I realized that the wind had shifted and I was downwind of the animal. A bath would help that! I started toward the water hose that was coiled beside the house. Jack followed and sat stoically while I sprayed him down, treated him for fleas and ticks, and began putting the tools away.
I returned just in time to see Jack heading for the deepest mud hole in the driveway. He rooted and rolled in it like a hog until he was covered in caked mud. Then he pawed the mud into the air and onto his back, finally shaking himself to loosen his mud-caked fur. He was always dirty. If it smelled he rolled in it until he could wear the stink. Once in a heavy downpour in a moment of weakness, I invited him into the cab of the truck. That was the last time too. Gosh, he stank. For all the time that we were together, I never saw him clean. He liked dirt and just plain wanted to smell rank.
I began taking Jack with me when I would hunt or when working alone as a game warden. Stake-outs and still hunting bored him. During those times he would wander a few yards away from me and began gnawing trees down; not little two-inch saplings mind you, but big stuff like four and five inch diameter trees. I would motion for him to be quiet and he would lower that big black head onto his paws and wait until reprieved or told to get into the truck. He seemed dejected when there was no action, nothing to chase, or something for those big massive jaws to bite.
You didn't pet Jack. He was his own dog. The only reward he wanted was a Twinkie roll or a pack of Lance crackers after a hunt. Just give him the pack, he would do the unwrapping. He preferred it that way. And if he didn't know you, he would disappear into the shadows only to sneak up behind you and growl lowly when he was in reach of your leg. He chose his own friends; Connie, our daughters Wendy and Holly, and my game warden partner, Mike. Those were the only people that he needed.
I watched a night hunter come out of the swamp past legal shooting time one night. The hour was late. I thought that I had enough surprise on my side to make a docile bust. I made a bad mistake. I turned on the headlights and pulled the truck right up beside the guy. After identifying myself as a law enforcement officer, I requested his hunting license and identification. Everything soured. He swung a hard right fist in my direction. Just as the fist came close to my face, Jack suddenly appeared from behind the cab of the truck, clamped down on the suspect's wrist, and held on as if to say "Cuff him and read him his rights!"
The perp was twisting and jerking, screaming over and over, "Let go, let me go. That dog'll bite!
Jack evened the score that night. Smell or no smell, we were even for his reprieve from the dog pound. He knew it and so did I. Our relationship got tighter and we were always together in the forest. I watched his back and he watched mine. We worked this way together for years. Old age finally got Jack. I was with him at the end. Sometimes, just sometimes, I get the feeling that he's still back there, two steps to the rear and two to the right, just watching, just waiting.
Ted Gragg, author of the fast paced novel, "Puma", serves as CEO of Myrtle Beach Indoor Shooting Range where he continues to pursue his hands-on love affair with firearms and military history. His writings include many short stories for wildlife and hunting sports periodicals, technical manuals and historical papers. His search for a Confederate gunboat scuttled in 1865 on South Carolina’s Great Pedee River led to the successful founding of the C.S.S. Pedee Research and Recovery Team. Many of the gunboat's artifacts recovered by the team are on display in area museums (The South Carolina Civil War Museum and the Horry County Museum). Currently the team is assisting the state of S.C. in the recovery of the vessels cannon. Some of this team’s work is highlighted in the up-coming sequel to "Puma". For more information, please visit: http://www.flatriverrockpublishing.com
Jack was a dependable companion. The only thing that he asked for was the outdoors, a bit of food, and to be his own master. So, he made an excellent team member. I am happy that you enjoyed the story. And thank you for your special comment. Thanks, Ted
Thank you for the grand comment on Jack. And by the way, I am in complete agreement with you on gun control. Our firm teaches the S.C. Concealed Carry Course three times a week and was the first ever to offer the course. It is a proven fact that conceal weapons carry is a definite deterrent to crime. Thanks again for the praise of the story. Ted Gragg
I also taught CCW classes for private citizens (in Ohio) for a few years, a few years ago.Our business taught many folks and I was actually surprised at the overwhelmingly positive qualities of the people who took our courses.Nice, responsible, friendly…good people--much different from what is sometimes portrayed.
Thank you for the compliment, Sue. I will endeavor to be worthy of your statement. As to Jack, well, at that time I needed a dog that was unafraid in tense situations. He served well. Glad that you enjoyed the story.
OMG, I actually cried reading this article ~ what a heart-tugging, adventurous story filled with passion and love for a best friend ~ you just knew in your heart that day that you were to take Jack home ~ God has a way of letting us know when it comes to adopting pets. Blessings! Suzy
Thank you, ma'am, for your comments. And yes, I was looking for a dog with certain attributes at that time and Jack fit perfectly. And, by the way, thanks for your viewpoint in some of your recent articles. Standing tall for Christianity, honor, and independence always takes intestinal fortitude. So thanks. Ted
Hi Ted, you have been away for far too long - what an impressive come back, although I am not surprised, you have the best real-life wild woods stories and you tell them perfectly. I laughed I cried, I even scrunched my nose everytime you mentioned his smell. I am sorry for your loss, you were blessed indeed.
Thanks Ted, stick around :-) Blessings to you - your fan, Teresa
Hello, Teresa, and thanks for the welcome back note. Glad that you enjoyed the story. This is sort of the prep for the 2nd novel in my "Puma" series. So I guess I'll have to use ol Jack as one of the characters. Good to hear from you too. Ted
» left by judi Lake from charleston (111 days 13 hours ago.)
There's my Mr. Ted -- Wonderful story!!! You know, at first I got nervous because my dad's name is "Jack"... smile... this was great and, as usual, you've taken your reader's right into your world - Thnx for sharing your world with us, Ted and, actually, the world needs more of your sharing ...( hint - hint...)
Why, Judi, thanks for your comment. And thanks for directing me to Searchwarp. Writing for reading and reading other writers' work here and sharing comments is more fun than a barrel of monkeys and the folks are grrrreatt. And that's a run-on sentence! And by the way, just for the record, the editing job that you did on the book was fantastic.
» left by judi Lake from charleston (110 days 22 hours ago.)
You always make me laugh, Mr. Ted and I'm glad you found enjoyment with Searchwarp! Hope to speak with you soon!
Well, friend Aana, you have traveled far through cyber-space to leave such a warm comment. I am humbled. Thank you and I appreciate your reading of the article. Ted
This was a "grabber" from the beginning. I have been frequenting the pound lately - just have to convince my hubby that with 5 acres and a garage framed (and covered over with sheet rock) for a "go out" door timing is perfect. He thinks 16 paws (feline) are enough, sigh.... Marijo (Mary Jo - dad was a creative speller) Joining your fan club today!
Thanks for the fun comment. I hope that your visits will bear fruit or at least a puppy. Thanks for your support. Hope that enjoy the other articles. Keep writing yours. They're very good. Ted
» left by Marijo Phelps from mountain meadow CO (71 days ago.)
Think I am only brave enough for a 1-2 year old so I can see what the personality will be - Thanks for your encouraging remarks! I have met a couple in that range I could have easily brought home - but also don't want our 2 13 year olds (feline) to die of heart attacks...Marijo
Hi, Laura. Yes, we miss you and your mom and pop. Hope that you can visit here soon. There is more for you girls to play with and do now, so come when you can. And thanks for reading about Jack and thinking of your pal Shadow. See ya.
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