Jackie and Me
Photo by Dick Sheppard
What’s on my mind?
I’ve been thinking about Jackie, the puppy from my last Facebook post. Our time together at Tarbela was short and ended in heartbreak, but I sure loved that little dog.
Jackie was a pye-dog, a tough, lovable mutt our cook brought home one afternoon. I thought of Jackie as mine, even though he truly belonged to Amin, who saw his future as a money-maker in local dogfights.
Back then, I was a bit scrappy myself, so Jackie and I bonded right away. I spoiled him, carried him everywhere, played tug-of-war, and picked ticks from his floppy ears. I’d always wanted a puppy of my own. All my attention made it impossible for Jackie to become a fighting dog, and Amin never complained; I suppose he couldn’t. The Pakistani neighbor with the German Shepherd down the street complained a lot. “Go away, you’re ruining my guard dog!” he snapped. “You’re making him soft!” I was known for being friendly with other people’s dogs. Maybe my reputation came from my parents’ decision not to have pets while we were overseas.
Our school bus stop was a few houses away from mine, located on a raised concrete patch that we fondly called "the triangle," situated at a quiet three-way intersection. Every morning, kids gathered and waited for the bus. One day, a rabid pye-dog showed up, eyes wild and body staggering as it approached the kids at the triangle. Back then, the fear of rabies hung over us all.
A mom dropping off her child shouted, “I can run it over with my car if you want me to!” I’m sure watching that would have upset us even more. Luckily, the bus arrived as someone chased the dog away, and we all boarded safely.
When I got home, I learned the rabid dog had returned after the bus left. I never found out if the mother ran it over or if a cook or gardener dealt with it. All I knew was that somehow Jackie had been bitten, and the rabid dog was dead.
“I’m sorry, Missisab,” Amin said. “There was nothing I could do.” After Jackie was bitten, Amin put him in an empty garbage can. I can only imagine Jackie’s little tail wagging, his floppy ears, and his brown eyes looking up at Amin, confused and whimpering. With one shot, it was over. Amin closed the lid.
When I look back at photos of Jackie and me, I remember the happiness he brought me during that gawky time in my life. Though our time together was brief, the memories remain. I’ll always think of Jackie as my dog, and I’ll always be grateful to Amin for letting me think so.
