The Story of Jack

A few years back, not long after we moved in to our current home, Jack joined our family. It happened one rainy Fall Sunday about six years ago. Luke and I were on our way to church when we noticed a dog running along a fairly busy road near our home. This wasn't an unusual thing to see but it always bothers me to see dogs running, especially along a busy road.

On our way home, as we rounded the corner, we saw this little dog again. I told Luke, "I'm going to stop and see if it'll come to me." "Mom, you will never get that dog to come to you," Luke said. I pulled over and got out of the car. Avoiding the mud and puddles I called, "Come Buddy!" The dog started to run in the other direction but then, for some reason, he turned and ran toward me. As I continued to call I could hear Luke behind me. "Mom, be careful!" I knelt as the dog came closer and then, without any hesitation he plopped right down between my knees and rolled over onto his back!

I know enough about dogs to know that that is a sign of submission and figured this dog probably wasn't going to attack me at that point! Still, I reached down and picked up the dirty, wet little flea bag with a fair amount of hesitancy. As we returned to the car Luke said, "Mom? Are you planning on keeping him?" "No!" I quickly replied. I am NOT a little dog person. I've never really cared for them as I consider them "yappy". My idea of dog is a Golden Retriever, which we happened to have at the time, or a Lab or a Shepherd. You get the idea.

It was obvious to me that this dog was a Dachshund, albeit an awfully small one. I have never had much fondness for Dachshunds. They were, after all, "rat dogs"! At least the miniatures are! At the time I had an Administrative Assistant who had Dachshunds. Mary had been mentioning that she was thinking of getting another "Doxie baby". I quickly called her and said, "Hey! Do you still want another Baby?" "Why?", she asked. "I just picked one up off the side of the road", I replied. "Let me talk to Terry" she said.

Pulling into the driveway I realized that taking this little rat dog into the house probably wasn't the smartest idea. Especially not until he'd gotten a good bath! Luke put the two canines in residence in the bedroom and I proceeded up the stairs to the "Man Cave" where Brian was blissfully watching a football game. As I got to the stop of the stairs he looked at me, frowned and said, "What have you got now? Where did you get that?" and to be honest probably a whole lot of other things I don't remember. "Don't worry", I said, "Mary is coming over to get him." "Good! because he isn't staying here!", Brian said. After a quick bath, the sorry little thing didn't look quite as bad and I had to admit, was maybe even sort of cute. Mary arrived after a bit and took him home with her.

The next morning, Mary called me. "You have to take him back. Sassy HATES him!", she said. Greaaaaat!! Now what? I began calling the local vets and animal shelters. No one had reported a lost dog. We posted signs and put a notice on "Man and Beast" (a lost/found dog web-site for lost/found dogs). After about ten days with no response I called our local animal shelters trying to find a place to take him. There were no spaces but I was told I could try calling Animal Control. I was informed that he would likely be euthanized pretty quickly as there was a serious lack of room for strays.

Now, even though I wasn't a "small dog" enthusiast the thought of that really bothered me. Not to mention the fact that this little black fur ball had started to grow on me. He had decided that I was his human and that it was his job to shadow me everywhere I went. He seemed to have endeared himself to our Golden as well. This little guy could also jump like nobody's business! It was like he had springs in his legs. Consequently, he was dubbed "Jumping Jack Flash", or "Jack" for short.

In the process of all of my calling I was informed that after 72 hours of having a dog in your possession it essentially becomes your dog. UGH! Well? If we were going to keep this little "jumping bean" he was going to need shots and neutering. I managed to get him on the "list" fairly quickly at the low-cost spay and neuter clinic. When I picked him up after surgery and shots I asked the attendant if there any way we can tell how old Jack was. I was told the vet estimated him to be about seven to nine months old. A puppy!

As time went on, "Jack" continued to worm his way into my heart. Those little brown eyes would just look at me with all the love and adoration in the world as he curled himself up in my lap at night. He was smart, obedient and really quite sweet. He assumed his place on the "doggie totem pole" in our home quite willingly. Ok, so maybe ALL little dogs aren't obnoxious?

We're quite sure that sometime in Jack's short life before he joined us he was abused. He has a few "quirks" that lead us to believe this. I can't help but wonder what might have happened to Jack had I not stopped that rainy day and picked him up? I am not generally prone to doing such things but on that day, for whatever reason, I did and I am glad. Jack has been a wonderful addition to our family and even cured me of my little dog aversion. Don't get me wrong. I'm still very much a "big dog" kind of girl.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am an animal lover. The Vanley house is currently home to three (yes, I said three) Doxies, all miniature long-haired. "Tuck" another "rescue" dog and an outdoor kitty, "Mama Kitty", who "found" us. That's a story for another time.

You know, as I watch Jack sleep, all curled up on the back of the chair, it occurs to me that the story of Jack is kind of like life. Not every stray is as it appears. Sometimes, if you take the time to help one in need you may find that the reward is in a form that you least expect. Maybe, just maybe, if you open your heart and mind you'll find that those preconceived notions you've been carrying are just a little flawed.