JACO AND THE BISCUIT

It was a narrow country road and the sunlight was faded like my jeans. Dew hung like pearls on the spider webs. The air was fresh and filled with birds singing to me through the car’s open window.

I saw something moving on the side of the road. A big red dog was running like the wind, trying to keep up with my car. He came out of nowhere! I slowed down and could hear his ragged breath. He was tired of running. One leg seemed injured, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

I had to help him because my heart said so. As I pulled the car over, the dog ran up a grassy hill on the side of the road, then lay down on top of it and watched me. I watched him, too, from a distance. I wasn’t about to approach him, as his purple tongue meant he was at least part-chow. I had never been fond of chows, although I had never really known one. He was beautiful, though, with long red hair, soulful brown eyes, and the prettiest feet I’d ever seen.

 “Look here, boy,” I said, pointing to my car. “I’m going to show you how to get in, and that’s what you’re going to do. Just climb in this door right here,” I told him. The dog watched me walk in and out of that car three times, but he didn’t move.

Behind me, a shiny white Cadillac slowed to a bouncy stop. A very large man grinned from behind a gold steering wheel, leaned to the window and asked, “Hey, whatcha doin’?” I pointed and said, “See that dog up there? I’m trying to get him into my car.”

“Aw, you don’t need that dog,” said the man. “I have a three-legged one in the back you can have.” Sure enough, a three-legged black dog relaxed on a white bed in the back seat. The name ‘The King’ was embroidered in swirly gold letters across the side of his bed. The King must have weighed close to 100 pounds and looked very much like his owner.

I grinned back at the man. “That is one fine-looking dog you have, Mister,” I said, “but I better keep on trying to get this other one to like me. Thank you, though!” And off went The King and his best friend to breakfast, driving away down the faded blue country road.

The red dog up on the hill didn’t move. “Ok, Dog, you win Round One,” I said. But my car had more tricks to reveal. I folded the back seats down flat and opened the hatchback. “Look at all this room, Dog! Four kids can camp out in this car. Now, come on, boy, it’s getting late.”

The dog didn’t budge from the hill, but pricked his ears and looked to the road. A bright blue pickup truck came up slow and stopped beside my car. An old farmer wearing a John Deere hat and bib overalls peered out the passenger window and asked, “Hey, whatcha doin’?” I said, “I’m trying to get that dog up there on the hill to get in my car, but he’s not budging.”

“Oh, forget about him,” said the farmer. “I have one right here you can have. Her teeth need work, but she’s pretty sweet.” On the farmer’s lap stood a tiny, bug-eyed, wiggling bag of sugar. Her petite paws perched atop the truck’s steering wheel and her teeth were crossed up like pick-up sticks. Her whirly-gig tail swept loose crumbs from the farmer’s chin onto his bibs.

“Thank you,” I said, “but you better keep your girl. She knows how to drive. I’ll stick with that one up on the hill for now.” And off the two best friends went, down the warm blue road toward town and a hot breakfast.

I walked a few steps up the grass hill toward the dog, but stopped because I was afraid. Then he wagged his tail. I got low and extended my hand toward him. He crawled on his belly to me, sniffed my fingers, then licked them. I scratched him under the chin and said, “Boy, you are some kind of handsome. Come on, now. It’s time. Come with me.”

The dog followed me to the car, but he wouldn’t get in. I felt sad because I had to go. I told him I was sorry for leaving him, then I wished him good luck and drove away. But he ran after my car and the sight of that about broke my heart so I stopped again. His eyes said he forgave me for leaving him on the side of the road and for thinking he might be mean.

I thought about my new job, about how I might be late and how my clean work clothes might be dirty when I got there. Then I shook my head to clear it and took a deep breath. “Here I come, boy,” I said. “I am going to wrap my arms around your body and pick you up. Please, don’t bite me.”

The dog stood still as a pillar while I lifted him off the ground. He rode quietly the whole way to the veterinarian’s office, splayed out in the back of the car like a new baby calf in wonder of the world.

He lived at the vet’s for three days, but nobody came looking for a dog like him. The vet called me and said, “He is a very fine dog. Smart and calm. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him. But you should keep him.” So, the dog and I moved into a house together the next day. We listened to music and unpacked boxes and I named him Jaco because he asked me to. He brought immediate and everlasting joy into my life. He was so smart, and so calm. He could even write his name in the clouds, but that is another story.

Jaco and I lived in a neighborhood safe for animals and children, near a park filled with old growth shade trees. One morning on our post-breakfast walk, Jaco and I saw a man staring into a storm drain. Because it seemed a friendly thing to do in that part of the state, we stopped and asked, “Hey, whatcha doin’?”

“There’s a cat down here and he can’t get out,” answered the man. “Listen, you can hear him meowing.” I could hear him, and Jaco could, too. The man said, “Just reach down there and get him. He’s been stuck for two days.”

So, I did. The cat walked right up to Jaco and begin purring and rubbing his head on Jaco’s legs. He wasn’t afraid at all! Jaco smelled the cat all over to make sure he was okay, then kissed him many times. The two animals were glad to be together, as if they were long-lost brothers.

“Look at that,” the man said. “Your dog thinks the cat might be a butter biscuit.” We both laughed. “Butter Biscuit, what a good name for a big yellow cat,” I said.     

Jaco and the Butter Biscuit were famous after that day. All the children in the neighborhood had a parade for them. Adults smiled because they were happy to see a cat and a dog walk together in the park, and to get along so well.

We were a quality family for a good short time. That, too, is another story.