A Tail Told by JD

The other day I decided to take respite from the office and head up the street to one of my favorite eating establishments. It was a beautiful spring Texas day in the mid 70s and with a sky so blue it seemed as if you could see straight through to the universe. Driving my pickup up the street, traffic was beginning to thin and I had time to look around and enjoy the day.

As I pulled up to a traffic light, I noticed some young kids playing with their dog in a vacant lot. It was the age old game of throwing a stick and watching the dog bound happily after it. This dog looked like a mix between a lab and a golden retriever with who knows what else tossed in just for good measure. The dog's tail was a non-stop picture of perpetual motion, and prancing around with that stick in his mouth made him look like nothing short of royalty. Ever the inquisitive and curious Texan, I looked both ways and turned left onto the small side street that bordered the vacant lot and parked my truck.

Thanks to child molesters and other sick individuals, it is no longer prudent--or wise--in this day and age to simply approach a group of young children playing in a vacant lot. So, I just sat on the hood of my pickup and took in the wonders of youth combined with the exuberance of playtime with Man's Best Friend.

Directly, a woman poked her head out of her house and asked me if I needed help. I got off my truck, took off my sunglasses and shook my head. "No," I told her, "I'm just taking a trip down memory lane. Those children remind me of myself when I was young and had all afternoon to play with my dog." The woman laughed and came on out of her house. "Those kids just love that dog," she said. That was obvious to me, and I said so. I then asked her where they got the dog. "He just showed up one day," she explained. "He was awful skinny and real dirty, but the kids got to playing with him and he kept coming back every day. I'd put out some food and he'd eat it. After a few days, he started sleeping on the front porch and he'd walk with the kids to the bus stop in the morning, then he'd come back and stay on the porch waiting for them to come home."

I shook my head in disbelief. Here in the middle of Dallas, in a lower income neighborhood, a strange dog manages to evade the clutches of Animal Control and befriend a group of neighborhood kids at the same time. It's no wonder I believe in a Higher Power.

"So you decided to keep the dog?" I asked.

She laughed again and said, "No, it's more like he decided to keep US. But that's all right because the kids love him and now he gets to sleep in their room with all of them, and I actually feel safer at night. He doesn't cost us much and the kids agreed to do extra chores to help me out with the cost of keeping him."

"Obviously your children don't watch much TV," I commented, and we both laughed at that. I thanked the woman for her time and complimented her on raising such great and responsible children and for giving the dog a home. She told me to stop by anytime and visit with the kids and the dog. It's going to be awful hard not to do that.

Back in my pickup, I felt really good. . . and a little guilty. My first dogs were mutts we got from the shelter for free. Looking back now, they were probably uglier than an empty glass of buttermilk and would challenge even the most experienced breed judge as to just exactly what all kinds of different breeds were thrown in to create them. But as a small child, they were the most beautiful dogs in the whole wide world--and any kid that said any different risked a bloody nose.

I mean, after all, here was a dog of dubious origin who simply took it upon himself to find a family to live with and love. Apparently nobody else wanted him, so rather than just give up, he went searching the streets of midtown Dallas looking for a home.

And did he find a dandy.

After lunch, I was headed back to the office on a different side street that ran by some small condos that used to be apartments. I saw an elderly woman walking a white, medium to small dog whose lineage defied logic and definition both. Yet, when the woman stopped walking, this dog stopped right by her side and looked up at her with a look of pure adoration and obedience. Neither the dog or the woman was in any hurry--they were just enjoying the pleasant afternoon. And while joggers passed them by and other pedestrians walked passed them, no one stopped to give either the dog or the woman the time of day. Yet, the dog couldn't have cared less because he was walking with the dignified gait of a loyal companion who could take on the worries of the world for his mistress and provide her with all the love and companionship she would ever need in ten lifetimes, let alone just the one she had.

Sighing heavily and realizing that I was destined to work late this evening, I circled the block and found a place to park upwards of where the woman and her dog were heading. I got out of the pickup with my newspaper and began walking towards them as if I were just another pedestrian. Yet, when we met, I complimented her on her handsome dog and she gave me a smile of pride that no artist could ever capture on canvas.

"I rescued him," she said proudly. "And he rescued me."

I saw a story coming, so we moved to a bench where we all sat.

Seems her husband had died in the past year, and for the first time in her life, she was all alone. Their kids were grown with kids of their own and rarely called or came into town. She'd sold the house upon the advice of friends and bought a small condo north of the downtown area. Even with the new place, it didn't take long to start becoming depressed. Finally, one friend suggested that she get herself a small dog for companionship. So she headed down to the main shelter one day.

"I saw a lot of dogs and they were all really nice," she said, "but when I saw Ranger, something inside of me said he needed me as much as I needed him." (She named him Ranger after her husband's favorite line of fishing boats. He could never afford a Ranger bass boat, but it was his lifelong dream to own one. People should not die without being able to realize their dreams, in my opinion.)

"Ranger was this scrawny, ugly thing sitting at the back of the kennel with all these other dogs around him," she continued. "All the other dogs were jumping up on the gate and trying to move each other out of the way so I could pet them. They were all barking and wagging their tails and getting really excited. But Ranger just sat in the back looking at me with these sad eyes. It was like he thought because he was so ugly nobody would ever love him. I looked at him and felt myself starting to cry."

"I told the young man who was helping me to please bring him to me and that I wanted to see him away from all the other dogs. So this young man gets one of those skinny leashes that also works as a collar and went in to get Ranger. We took Ranger into an empty office and the man left us alone and told me to take all the time I wanted."

"Well, Ranger and I just sat there and looked at each other. I reached down to pet him and he just looked up at me with this defeated look in his eyes. I knew then that he and I were all alone in the world. Then Ranger leaned against my leg and sighed real heavy, all the time still looking up at me. I just kept petting him and he kept leaning closer and closer to me. His tail wagged a little bit and I kept petting him and talking to him, telling him it was going to be all right and how pretty he was."

"Then, he reached up and started licking my hand."

At this point, she stopped for a moment and looked down at Ranger. "I started crying right then and there," she said. "All the loneliness I'd felt since losing my husband, all the emptiness I'd experienced. . . it all just came out. I was too old to get down on the floor with him, so I just kept petting him and he kept licking me and I kept crying."

"The man who was helping me heard me crying and came into the office. I guess he was worried and wanted to make sure we were all right. . . I told him everything was all right and that I wanted to take Ranger home with me."

All the while the woman was talking, Ranger was sitting patiently by her side, leaning up against her knee and looking at her with big brown eyes that were full of love and adoration. I reached down to pet him, and got a good look right into his eyes and into his soul. Ranger was a four-legged furry angel sent by God to be at this woman's side. God may have made him ugly in the eyes of an entire world, save for one very special woman, but at that moment, there were now TWO people who thought Ranger was the prettiest dog they had ever seen.

"I'd never had a dog before," she explained. "And I didn't know anything about training, so I went and bought some books. He's so smart that it didn't take anytime to teach him things. He knows I'm old and can't walk fast, so he never pulls me when we walk. And did you know that he never had even one accident in the house when I brought him home?"

Can't say that about any of my own dogs.

She showed me how Ranger would shake hands, sit, down and roll over and even speak--all of which Ranger did with the exuberance of a dog given a second lease on life.

I looked at my watch and said I had to go. I took the woman's hand and wished her and Ranger well. Then Ranger and I shook hands and went our separate ways.

Two dogs in one day. Two mutts that nobody wanted. Two dogs that found a way to steal the hearts of their new families. Two dogs that are about as purebred as a politician is honest.

But two dogs who made two families richer in life and virtue than all the gold, silver and diamonds one could imagine.

And I'm a better person for having been blessed to have met them.

--JD

Copyright © 1999, 2001 by J.D. Kinman. Reprinted with permission of the author.