An old woman in our rural neighborhood had a young German
Shepherd which she inexplicably named Jaques. My sibs and
I were all grade school age at the time and we liked going
with Mom on errands to the old lady's place partly because
we liked playing with that dog.
Jaques started to leave his mistress' yard to travel two miles over country roads,
and enter our yard. The old neighbor said that Jaques preferred being with children, and since he already spent
half his time with us, we should have him. We were thrilled.
Everyone thinks his dog is the best. All German Shepherds
are smart, but our Jaques... I'll never forget the time my
little sister, aged about three, was at play in the front
yard, trying to go to where her ball had rolled. The ball
was many yards from the road, but she was headed in that
general direction, and for Jaques she was close enough. He
would not let her go any further across that yard, try as
she might to go 'round his front, his tail, or underneath
him. Finally she resorted to striking his back in
frustration. He stood there and took it, knowing he was
protecting his young charge. It almost makes that dog
nurse-maid in Peter Pan seem not so silly.
When Jacues was about seven (almost 80 in human years) he
slowed way down, couldn't keep up with us nearly like he
once had. For the last several months he moved with a limp,
and our parents started talking about putting him down.
Before they did so, our beloved pet died peacefully in his
sleep. We buried him where the back yard meets the
fields.
That night, the family went to a Halloween party in town.
Dad's youngest sister came to our house to watch the baby.
It was the first time Mom had left him and I remember how
nervous she was, and how I thought she was being
ridiculous. My aunt had been our main babysitter until I,
the first child, became old enough to fill that role, and
nothing bad ever happened.
We left the party early due to mom's worries. On the way
home we noticed that several of our neighbors' yards were
festooned with toilet paper, and there was much speculation
as to whether we had been similarly pranked. As we neared
the house, we could see some whiteness, but on pulling into
the driveway, we were happy to see that only one tree had
been partially papered.
Our aunt said that she had heard Jaques barking and went to
a window to see what was up. We all looked at each other
and back at her in uncomfortable silence. She had arrived
late that night, and we were late leaving - in the bustle,
we had never told her about Jaques' death. We told her now.
No, she insisted, and she looked angry, as if we were
playing a rude joke. It was Jaques barking at the kids who
were TPing us. When they heard him and saw the porch light
come on they jumped in their car and drove off. Jaques
followed them out the driveway and down the road. She
called for him to come back but he didn't.
It must have been another dog, my mother put in, but she
looked very upset. Again my aunt was insistent, saying it
was definitely a German Shepherd and she recognized his
limp. She could see it all in the light from the porch.
One of my brothers offered the theory that Jaques had not
really been dead, we had buried him prematurely and he had
clawed his way out of the grave. My mother said he had
been stiff and cold and she started to cry, but my brother
was already on his way outside to check his hypothesis.
Dad and I followed with a flashlight, knowing what we would
find; the dog had been very decidedly deceased.
Of course the mound of earth was undisturbed.
I suppose it could have been another dog, but I like to
believe otherwise, especially since we knew of no one else
for miles around who owned a German Shepherd, much less a
limping one, and we never saw or heard another 'imposter'
dog after that night...
There were other much loved pets in the years that
followed, but, well, they just weren't Jaques.
Contact me here:bv323is@ameritech.net
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