Jackie

Little Jackie, the Jack Russell, joined our family from the local dogs’ home. He had been found tied to a lamppost, shivering and shaking on a winter’s morning; left by some heartless - but wise - owner.

We brought him home and petted him and it hurt us! It hurt us because Jackie tried to fucking eat us. He showed no bias though, because he also ate the chairs, table, doors and fire brush. Jackie wasn’t all daft though, he drew the line at poisons or even broken glass, regardless how cunningly disguised in a sausage or piece of bread. His lightning reactions saved him, many the kiss of leather.

The little darling also attacked the mother-in-law; one of the few – if not only – positives that I can remember as, owner and ‘protector’. The mother-in-law asked my son to throw stones at him; I am still awaiting the bill from the glaziers.

I would let Jackie out every morning for his run, unfortunately, he invariably came back. He did look cute though, as he ran in to the living room and without so much as a perfunctory sniff, shit copiously on the Persian rug. The rug – a generous wedding gift – now resides in the shed. Thankfully the flies, having grown attached to it, voted to follow. Jackie recovered from the loss quickly enough and found the mother-in-laws’ chair a satisfying substitute.

Jackie met his Waterloo one summer’s morn, when he leaped a wall while pursuing the last remaining cat in the village – a wily old tabby named Claude. He flew through the air like ‘Superdog’ and hit the front of the bus like bird-shit.

The bus stopped and disgorged its passengers; a bunch of Texans on tour some howled in sorrow, while some retired marines snapped with the latest Japanese technology, Jackie’s angelic – albeit slightly crushed – face. My children cried and I shed a tear of joy.

The Americans were almost as crushed as Jackie.
“That was a pedigree dog, right?” one asked
“Yes!” I chokingly lied
They had a whip-round and came up with $500. I got the Rug cleaned, gave a tip to Claude’s’ owner
And had enough left for a new T.V.

I considered giving some money to the dogs’ home (for about a half a second). I deferred for fear of becoming the owner of another dog that looked like a rat, bit like a tiger and shit like an elephant.

So a word to all good hearted people out there; If you see a little dog tied to a lamp post, in Freezing weather, looking hungry, forlorn and sad;

LEAVE THE FUCKER THERE!