Lefty Couldn't Take the Heat
I didn't want the dog back in 1997. It was Jesse's idea. He wanted to surprise his mother with a puppy for Christmas. Plus, he found out what happened to the little creatures at the Animal Shelter if they couldn't find a home.
We rescued Hank from the dog pound.
Jess dropped him in a sack, tied a red ribbon around the top and proudly presented him to Cathy as a present. It was the best we could do as we didn't figure Hank would sit quietly under the tree until Christmas morning.
I couldn't tell if Cathy liked Hank or not. She is pretty good about not disappointing the boys. I can guarantee you, she was completely surprised!
Hank grew out of the gift bag the first night. By Christmas morning, the "puppy" weighed thirty pounds. You could see him growing! I was reminded of that classic movie, "The Monster That Ate Cleveland".
Jesse left right after New Year's to go back to college. Cathy returned to her teaching duties. I was stuck with a half chow, half chocolate lab that eats like that guy on the Popeye cartoons and in three weeks outgrew his corner in the baseball locker room.
Out of self preservation I determined Hank to be an outside dog. He readily agreed. I don't remember when he started running with me. I was stretching on the porch one afternoon and he reared up on the bench and stretched his big long legs out beside me.
"Let's go you crazy ole dog." We took off a little faster than normal. I was going to show this dog something! He didn't say nothing. But he matched me step for step. At the five mile mark my breathing became a little ragged. My left heel hurt. And I had a twinge in my side. I speeded up. I wasn't about to let Hank see me sweat! He didn't even bother to look up as he quickened his pace to match mine.
"You're lower to the ground. You don't have the wind resistance that I do. You're a lot younger. You don't have to work; you just lay around all day, resting, waiting on me to get home. You've got two more feet on the ground than I do for crying out loud!"
Hank didn't say nothing.
But he never missed a run. He was eager. I will give him that. And even after he grew to his full 115 pounds he never complained about the added weight or the hot days or the cold ones or the rain. He never seemed to be sick or hampered with a pulled muscle. If I put my worn out size ten Asics running shoe on that deck bench, Hank laid a number twelve and a half size paw right beside it. We stretched in unison.
Some days I picked which way we ran. Some days, I let him. I told him about the St. Louis Cardinals and the Chicago Bears. I explained how Josh and Jess got their names. I told him about floating down the Cascade River with Tom, Joke, Bill and Grover Cleveland Alexander. He learned all about LaRenda Bradfield, Bobby Brewer, Buddy Wiggleton and Graylene Lemmonds.
He never said much, but he was about the best listener I've ever been around.
We have done this for eleven years and ten thousand miles. He is the best running partner I've ever had bar none! And we've been a pretty good team. I did try to replace him once. A couple of years ago I noticed Hank was slowing down. I didn't want to run him past his time. A good friend offered me a registered lab. A real pretty dog, had great markings, a good chest, and he was young. I figured it was worth a try. He stayed three days. Me and Hank took him out for a spin. We ran five miles or so each day. Some time during the third night, Lefty jumped the fence and made his escape! He had had all the running he could stand! You can't judge every dog by his looks...
Hank has really slowed this past year. His heart is willing but the flesh is beginning to weaken. We have discussed his retirement and the possible need for a replacement. Hank knows it. But admitting it is an altogether different proposition.
Fate intervened. I found a dog on the side of the road; a young, Australian shepherd mutt with one brown eye and one blue eye. I took him home and showed him to Hank. It was a little bit of an awkward situation, I wouldn't hurt Hank's feelings for all the tea in China. "I figure, ole boy, we'll try him out. See if he can last as long as Lefty."
We named him One Eyed Jack. And after I fed'im good, got the ticks off and cleaned him up some, I took him out for a test run. He PULLED me for the first mile. "Whoa dog. Hold up. Slow down. Jack, wait a minute!"
When we got back to the house he was still bouncing off the walls, chasing squirrels, birds and bumble bees. Hank helped me to the back steps. "I'm not sure, big fellow, that this is going to work." Hank just shook his head and finally spoke, "Kes, I'm not the only one that has been slowing down the last couple of years!"
Jack is the runningest dog I've ever seen. He can out run a late freight. He never stops. He never rests. He never sleeps. He is about to kill me! It's like he's got that 1985 super charged Corvette engine and I'm trying to keep up in my 1947 Rolls Hardly (rolls down one hill and hardly gets up the next).
He doesn't stretch. He doesn't warm up. He just takes off! And he is one happy dog! He smiles when I try to get him to "cool it a mite". He grins when I grab him by the ears and yell "Hang on there a minute!" And he laughs out loud when I say, "O K, one more mile".
Hank and I go walking after Jack drags me back to the house. We reminisce about that first Christmas, how the boys have grown, the miles we've covered-Jack will come by in fourth gear, go "Beep, Beep" and be out of sight in a flash!
I've got to find an "in between" dog..
Respectfully,
Kes
