The Big 0-5.
I'm sure there will be a few eye rolls over the fact I felt it necessary to blog about my fuzzy dog but for those of you who have a beloved pet or who have the pleasure of knowing Jake personally - I'm sure you'll give me a pass.
Jake is probably the only resident of Atlanta, Georgia who was born in Niobrara, Nebraska. And, in my opinion, he is the best thing to ever come out of that wonderfully, quirky, little town.
Jake is a West Highland Terrier - a Westie. He enjoys chasing his Toy Story ball, getting treats out of his Kong, chasing his sister-cats and hanging with his peeps at Happy Paws Pet Camp. He's a helluva swimmer and sniffer.
Jake started his life as "Little Bit" with Frankie, a regular customer of ours at The Two Rivers Saloon. Frankie showed up several times a week with Little Bit, would take his regular seat at the bar, lift his puppy up on the seat next to him, order the fried shrimp dinner (yes, they were frozen...it was Nebraska), a beer and then proceed to share his shrimp with Little Bit.
So I get this excited call from Eddie.
"You are not going to believe what is sitting at our bar right this minute."
"You're right. I won't believe it so go ahead and tell me."
"A WESTIE PUPPY!!!"
(I used to have another Westie named Duncan and Eddie was aware that this was a breed I was very much in love with.)
"No it isn't. I don't believe for one minute there are Westies in Niobrara."
Eddie, speaking to someone else, "Hey Frankie, tell Lisa what kind of dog that is."
I hear "Westie" from across the bar.
Eddie, to me again, "You won't believe how cute he is. He looks like a Swiffer duster!"
Eddie, to Frankie again, "Frankie, you have to bring Little Bit in when Lisa gets here this weekend."
Eddie, to me again, "I have to go. Love you."
Click.
I arrived that Saturday exhausted from the straight through 18 hour drive from Atlanta. It was Thanksgiving week so I would be able to stay for a while. It was time for the dinner rush so I went straight to work. I had forgotten about Little Bit and Frankie.
Sunday's were a bit slower at the Two Rivers but this was the middle of hunting season so there were rooms to clean and never ending piles of sheets and towels to wash.
I was out in the laundry area or cleaning a room or something when I hear Eddie calling for me. As I walk into the dining room all I see is this little, tiny, white, fluff ball running straight at me. He jumped right into my arms and started licking my face.
It was the infamous, shrimp-eating, bar-fly, Little Bit.
As Frankie munched on his dinner, I did all of my chores holding his puppy. As I handed the dog back to Frankie he said, "I'll bring him by for you to see him tomorrow."
And he did. In fact Little Bit showed up every day that week. And each time, as Frankie would open the door, Little Bit would race across to wherever I was standing and throw himself into my arms.
On Thanksgiving Day we celebrated with Arlene and four of our friends from Minneapolis. We cooked a huge dinner and ate in the banquet room. Once we got everything cleaned up, it was time to open to the public. I didn't think anyone would show up on Thanksgiving Day but we were busy right up to closing time.
Sometime the next day the phone rang - "Duck's Quackin' Dude". (It's not funny unless you were there.)
It was Frankie and he had a proposition for Eddie. "Lisa seems to really love Little Bit and my mom doesn't like him so I need to find a home for him. I'll sell him to you for $150. I paid $400 so that's a great deal."
Eddie said, "Let me talk to Lisa about it and I'll let you know."
So, the conversation went like this:
"Frankie wants to sell us Little Bit and I think you should have him because you love Westies and we said we wanted to get a dog. This is perfect for everyone. Frankie's mom doesn't even like Little Bit and I don't think he has a very good life over there. We have to get him."
"Ok."
Within 10 minutes, Frankie was handing me Little Bit and Eddie was handing Frankie $150 in cash right out of the register.
After Frankie left we placed the puppy on the floor and all six of us stared at him.
"We have to give him a new name. I'm not having a dog called Little Bit", I said.
As the puppy attached himself to Eddie's foot and Eddie "swiffered" the floor with him names were thrown out randomly by whoever was in ear shot.
None of them seemed right.
That night we set up a bed for No Name next to our bed. That lasted exactly 6 minutes. We put him up on the bed with us to keep him from crying and I didn't sleep at all fretting that Eddie would roll over and squish the little guy.
When Eddie woke up the next morning I was laying with the puppy on my chest staring at him while he snoozed.
"Jake", I said.
"Hmmmm. Jake it is" said Eddie.
That afternoon it was time for me to head back to Atlanta - with Jake. By this time we already knew we wouldn't be staying in Niobrara and Eddie was too busy to take care of a puppy. So Jake was moving south.
I stopped at the Wal Mart in Yankton, SD to get food, leash, toys, etc. for the long ride home. We ran into a snow storm as we got closer to Missouri. I'm from Atlanta - I don't drive in snow. Period. After what seemed like hours of poor visibility and slickness that was way outside my comfort zone, we stopped for the night.
And so it was Jake's first night in a motel - unless you count our room at The Two Rivers. He was great and to this day a perfect little traveler.
Eddie returned home for good within three weeks on December 7, 2008 and we settled into a new family dynamic. The cats were happy to see Eddie after four months but could have done without the puppy. In 364 days Eddie would leave and never return. But I think it is safe to say, those 364 days of domestic bliss were the happiest of both our lives.
He was taking the year off, so while I was at work every day, he and Jake became inseparable. They cruised around in Eddie's bright blue Ford Ranger truck - the large, white-haired guy, window rolled down, no matter what the temperature with the white, fuzzy dog hanging out the driver's window.
On the Friday before Eddie died, he decided to walk with Jake from our house to The Home Depot a mile away to return something. He called me and we chatted pretty much the whole way. As they got to the store and walked up to the customer service desk I hear:
"Hold on a second."
"Can I help you, sir?"
"Just a second." And then movement of some sort.
"Yes, I'd like to return this dog."
And then a woman laughing hysterically. "Oh my God! It's so cute!"
That distinctive giggle, then a whisper - "I put Jake on the counter. Talk to you later. Love you."
Click.
_________________
A few weeks later a man came to our house to pick up a fuel cell he had bought from Eddie. Jake and I were in the garage getting it ready when the man rode up. He was on a 2007 Honda GL1800 Goldwing. He was tall, in full gear. That bike has a distinctive, soft purring sound that I absolutely love.
As he got closer to the garage Jake went nuts. He starting running around the bike, jumping up on the man's legs, barking, and making that crying sound that dogs make.
I had seen him do this many times before - every time Eddie rode up after being on the road for awhile.
As the man stopped the bike, climbed off and removed his helmet I couldn't hide the fact that I was crying. Jake stood back for a minute. I picked him up and said, "I'm sorry. He thought you were Eddie."
The man looked confused and uncomfortable. He had never met Eddie before. He just knew him by name.
Dogs know their master. And they never forget. You can think I'm crazy if you want - but Jake can tell the difference between a Goldwing, BMW, sport bike or obnoxious Harley. He pays no attention to the sport bike or Harley. But he always goes on full alert if he sees or hears the quieter bikes.
Happy Birthday Jakester. You're a good boy.
As always thanks for telling your tale. I only laughed twice, but thanks to you I met this weeks quota.
ReplyDelete