Well, I call him that even though it's Howard's dog, but I think he likes me better. When it comes to a choice of hitching a ride on the riding mower with Howard (which he loves to do) or staying beside me, I can see he is torn until I tell him to go on.
Jack is still a puppy, really, but he is growing by leaps and bounds. He used to fit easily through the doggy door, reserved for the inside pet, Pebbles, but now it is a tight squeeze. Jack is content to stay outside, especially since he is no longer tethered to the doggy run that confined him until recently.
It's funny, but I am not usually a dog person. I don't like them in the house, and I've never been as crazy about them as is my spouse. He is a dog person, big time. But Jack stays outside. He is friendly, affectionate, smart and obedient! And he likes me! Especially when I pet him or massage his back! He has a beautiful, shiny brindled coat that ripples in satisfaction during a rub down. He is a bulldog.
When I was a child, we had a family pet for years, our dog Tige (for the tiger stripes he wore). He was especially loved by my big brothers. We played in the Oklahoma blackjack woods and rocky hills and often encountered snakes! Tige was an expert at killing snakes. He would shake them mercilessly between his bulldog teeth until they were dead. I remember crying unconsolably when the snakes' poison finally got him. My sobs and tears were as the rain that sluiced down our window where I witnessed his last moments.
One other time I felt affection for a dog. We rented to a young couple living in a mother-in-law apartment attached to our house in Mississippi. One night they asked me to keep their puppy while they went out. The puppy wriggling against my chest as I held him, his little heart beating fast, melted my heart. I hated to give him back when our neighbors got home.
Our friend who gave us Jack told Howard that the dog's mother had been very good-natured. I see the same traits in her offspring. I think he is a keeper!
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