The Dog

We named him Thomas Jefferson, which seemed like the patriotic thing to do. He was born on the Forth of July. Thomas Jefferson had too many syllables so we called him TJ, and it fit. He was a Sheltie Schnauser mix, his head came up to my knee and as dogs go, he was pretty sharp. He understood what you said to him. He could pick out of his half dozen or so toys the one you asked for and be right every time. We lived in a split-level and the stairs were such that you could throw the preferred toy of the day down the steps from the living room and it would end up in the basement. He would go rumbling down after it and do it over and over as long as you wanted to throw for him. He'd get winded and pant alot. You could tell him to stop and get a drink, he would, and come back for more fetching. Smart dog.

There were however, times when his bulb would become severely dim. We had a large walnut tree in the front yard and TJ liked to relax in it's shade and take in the smells and sights. I was doing something one day in the front with him behind me under the tree when I heard the neighbor's screen door open and close. I immediately noticed their cat, and so did TJ.

I have to say that TJ was not just your basic dog when it came to cats. There were dark things within him regarding felines. He had some baggage. When we brought him home from the pet store, there were already two cats in residence. Adult cats. Adult type cats that don't like to be messed with without permission. Even though you may be a small puppy with innocent motives, you will be rejected by adult cats. Such was the case with TJ. It's been said that rejection will make you either bitter or better. The dog got along with the two ugly step sisters but he was not better. So he grew up and lived in a dysfunctional household for dogs. Strange cats or neighbor cats were however there for him to vent upon. He would bark obscenities at any who came into view, especially those who put a paw on his property. It would take a bit for him to settle down after they went their way. His hair would stand up and he'd growel a while. You could tell there was quite a burnin' urn of funk inside.

When the cat appeard I heard a bark and then a growel behind me and I turned to see him take off. I think he saw this as an opportunity for him to unload all of his supressed resentment and frustration. I could tell that his throttle was at full adrenalin and his weapons were set to kill and rip to shreds. He was flying and it was a beautiful sight.

I think he reached terminal velocity at about twenty feet. That also happend to be the length of slack that was in his twenty-five foot rope, the end of which was tied to the walnut tree. I do mean terminal because when he reached rope limit, his head neck and shoulders came to an instant halt. His rear end went flying past, he flipped in the air about a foot and landed on his back with a thump. It took three days for him to get his bark back. I loved that dog. I miss him.