Jager: Part One

Jager: Part One

Mobile, Alabama 2001

Before I wrote the story of Roxanne, I should have started with the tale of Jager, the best dog I have ever known.  These events begin six months prior to James and I acquiring Roxanne at the Flea Market.

Jager was a black lab, which we didn't exactly acquire through one hundred percent “legal” means. Well if it was a matter of what was right, yeah we did what was right, but did we ask for permission, not exactly. 

When I moved into the small old house on the west side of Mobile, I did so with a bartender at a local TGIF named James. James was cool guy who I had met during my countless hours at the TGIF’s bar.  He seemed nice, and I needed a roommate; plus we both had an affinity for the drink, so the fit was perfect. When James and I moved in though, we felt like something was missing. 

A dog. 

After about two weeks of living in our new house a neighbor down the street, whom for the purpose of this story I will call Jane, told us a story about some guy she knew, and how he had a black lab pup tied to the front tree of his house. 

It seems some evening operations are an order – I thought. 

So after a few short moments of contemplation, I went with Jane in her minivan to see this poor creature. When Jane and I showed up, the sight was as bad as I thought it would be.  It was a little black male Labrador puppy chained to an old oak tree by way of a thick heavy chain.  The sad little dog was lying there on the ground on its side, and by the look of the size of the chain, it didn’t even look like the little guy could get up.

 He looks pretty pathetic – Jane said.

Yeah he does-

I tried calling the pound to see if they could do anything about the situation, but they said no- Jane added.

Is anyone home-

No, the truck is gone-

I’m taking him-

After quick work with quicker hands, I had the black lab in the minivan and was headed back to my house.

When I got back home, James and Dave, our next-door neighbor, were waiting out in front of my house.

Our next-door neighbor Dave was a big guy, that most of our friends referred to as Da’ Bull, and whom I referred to as both friend and master chef on many occasions for his mastery with the food and drink.

I got the back lab out of the mini-van and said thank you to the woman down the street for taking me over to get the dog.

-I’m just glad he’s going to a good home is all, it’d be a shame for any ole dog to be tied up to a tree all their life.

I agree- I returned.

Looking back, after that day I hardly ever said more than two words to Jane.  Even though she had given me one of the best friends of my life.

It was now James, Dave, the black Labrador, and I standing in my front yard this spring night.  We all looked at each other and laughed at the act that had just taken place.

While we talked, the black lab just stood there and watched us.

So what should we name him?- James asked.

I haven’t gotta clue- I responded.

Maybe we should all have a couple beers to help us think it over- Dave suggested.

It seemed like a fair idea.

Come on boy – we hollered out to the back lab as we headed into the house – but he did not follow us.

I went back to the dog and pulled on his nape, yet the dog would not budge.

Come on boy- I encouraged.

Nothing.

I’ll go grab one of our dog’s leashes – Dave said and then retreated back into his house.

Dave had three dogs of his own.

He came out with the leash and then we put it around the black lab's neck.  Come on boy- I said pulling on the leash.

The black lab would not move – instead he just sat there.

In fact the more we tried to move him the more insistent he became on sitting in one spot.

Finally James picked up the black dog, and we carried him in the house.

Guess he’s just never been on a leash before – I said.

I guess not- James returned.

So the three of us sat there drinking beer in my living room staring at our new dog, discussing his fate, and trying to figure out what we were going to name him.

How about Jake – someone suggested.

Nah-

Guinness?

Nope-

The night had almost come to an end and we all had since become quite familiar with the drink.

You guys wanna do some shots- James inquired.

Sure – Dave and I agreed.

At that point in my life, and after a few beers, shots were a nightcap routine.

So we all went into the kitchen and opened the freezer where we kept the ice-cold bottle of Jagermeister.

I looked at the bottle and then I looked down at the black lab that had, now slowly, followed us into the kitchen.

I think he’s beginning to like us- James added as the black Labrador stood next to us.

Just then the light from the kitchen hit the black labs eyes, and they shimmered a color of emerald green.

The black lab had green eyes; I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before.

 At the same time James held the green bottle of Jagermeister in his hand.

Why don’t we call him Jager- I said.

And it was done.