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.