Old Jim

             My husband saw the dog on one of the busiest streets in Nashville.  He was at work and saw the dog from his office window overlooking Broadway.  Others saw him, too, and a discussion began.

            “He’s going to get hit by a car!” They all seemed to be in agreement.  It was a very real possibility.

            My husband spoke up.  “The dog doesn’t seem to have an owner.  Just how he got out there, I don’t know.  But if he’s still dodging in and out of traffic when I get off work, I’ll put him in the car and take him home.”

            The dog, of course, was still there at quitting time.  My husband opened his car door and called to him, “Here puppy! Here puppy!” Without hesitation, the dog came running.  Once he was safely inside the car, my husband drove him to our home. 

            Upon entering our apartment, my husband called to me, “Honey, I have a surprise for you!”

            I was so excited.  “Where is it?” I asked as I began searching his pockets. 

            “It’s not here,” he laughed.  “It’s in the car.  Wait a minute and I’ll get it.”

            He had a great big smile on his face when he returned.  “Here it is!” he said, showing me the dog. 

            “It’s a dog!”  I exclaimed.  I was surprised indeed.  “We can’t keep a dog.  They don’t allow dogs in the apartment.  Besides, it looks like one of those duck-hunting dogs.  We don’t hunt.”  I laughed.  “What’s a hunting dog doing on a main street in Nashville?”

            “I don’t know,” my husband admitted.  “He looks like he’s still young- just barely out of his puppy-hood.  I thought of your mother living alone on a farm.  She could use a good dog like this.  Call her and ask here if she wants him.  We’ll drive up to Springfield and take him to her,” he said with a smile. 

            As I was telling my Mother about the dog over the telephone, I began to sense that she was weakening in her decision. 

            “I haven’t had a dog since our last one passed away,” she said. “I said I would never get another dog, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt.  You say it’s a puppy?”

            “Yes, but he’s almost grown, I think.  He looks a bit like a yellow Labrador retriever.  He’s got the blonde coloring, but it’s lighter in some areas.”

            “Well, bring him here.  I’ll take him.”

            When we arrived at Mother’s, the dog ran out of the car as soon as we opened it for him.  It was as if the dog knew he was home.  He beat us to the front porch where he found himself a place to lay down.”

            Mother stepped outside.  “Where is the puppy you brought me?” She asked. 

            “He’s right over there, lying down,” I pointed.  “I guess he’s home.”

            Mother started laughing.  “That’s the puppy?” she asked incredulously.  “Do you kids know anything about dogs?  That’s no puppy.  Look at the white on his face. You brought me an old dog.”

            “But he’s not that big.”

            “Not all Labradors get big, especially if they’re not purebreds; and this one is obviously not a purebred.”

            “I guess we could take him somewhere else…”

            “No, no.  He’s here now.  I’ll keep him.  He can live out his golden years in comfort.  He’s not going to be much use on the farm, though.  He’ll just be another mouth to feed,” she said, while shaking her head.

            I really felt bad about taking the dog to Mother.  My siblings teased me endlessly, over the next several weeks, for giving Mother that old dog.  They laughed at me and my husband for not knowing the dog was old.  Mother even named him “Old Jim.” I was a little hurt when I found out what she’d named him. 

            “Old Jim” did well to get around in the yard.  For an old dog, he sure dodged cars on that busy downtown Nashville street the day my husband found him.  Now that he had retired to a country home, he barely moved.  Boy, he’d sure had us fooled.  Mother took good care of him, though.  She didn’t seem to regret feeding him, even though his worth on the farm didn’t amount to much.  Perhaps she enjoyed his companionship. 

            On a farm, chores must be done, and Mother had hogs that needed feeding.  On one particular day, Mother took their usual feed in buckets and began pouring it out for them.  She wasn’t paying much attention to things around her. But, as she looked down at her feet, she froze.  A long black snake slithered between her feet, and she screamed.  “Old Jim” heard her scream and came running. 

            Mother told the story many times afterward.  You could tell that she spoke about “Old Jim” as if he were a hero.  “He grabbed that snake and went to shaking him.  He held him tightly around the neck.  The snake never once tried to bite him.  When “Old Jim” stopped shaking it, he dropped it.  I got away from it quickly, but I glanced back to watch and make sure it wasn’t coming after me.  “Old Jim” didn’t take his eyes off of it. When I pulled my emotions together, I cautiously stepped closer to it again and realized that “Old Jim” had killed it.  When I breathed a sigh of relief, “Old Jim” began to wag his tail!  I reached out my hand and rubbed him.  I couldn’t believe the old dog had come running like that!”

            Over time, my siblings continued teasing us over not knowing the dog was old and giving him to Mother.  But “Old Jim” had won over the only heart that mattered.  My husband and I began to feel a little bit of pride over bringing the dog to Mother.  “Old Jim” had been given a home where he was truly appreciated.