Old Jack

For a while we lived at Tinsley’s Mill but in 1938 we moved back to Fayetteville and rented three rooms from Mrs. Jenny Farrar about a block from town. Mrs. Jenny, a widow lady, lived on the other side of the house from us, separated by a hallway that ran down the middle. Her only companion was a little, long-haired, white, Eskimo Spitz that she called “Friskie.”

Not long after we moved back to town a big German Shepherd started coming around. He was probably looking for food. I shared parts of my snacks with him and Mother gave him scraps from the dinner table. I liked to pet and play with him. He appeared to be a gentle animal and I was never afraid of him. It was rumored around the community that someone passing through had just put him out in an effort to get rid of him. He became “my dog” and I named him “Jack.”

Jack never liked Friskie very much, especially when food was at stake and Mrs. Jenny soon decided that Jack had to go. I was broken hearted and being a child I couldn’t understand Mrs. Jenny’s concerns.

To solve the problem my grandfather who lived out in the country with very few neighbors agreed to let Jack live with him. He too became very attached to Jack and Jack followed him everywhere he went.

My fondest memory of Jack after his going to stay with my grandfather was on Thanksgiving day. Mother took me out in the yard to punish me for something. She broke a switch from a nearby bush and started switching me. Old Jack reared up on his hind legs and with a ferocious bark came at my mother. He didn’t hurt her for she quickly dropped the switch and that ended the punishment.