That’s The Deal

When I arrived home this evening, something was different.

Jinx wasn’t there to greet me.

He is always either lying in front of the door, or sprawled in the grass, or he comes running from the back porch, and he greets me with all the I’m-so-glad-to-see-you-again joy that characterizes our daily reunions. But this evening, he was absent.

He’s a rake and a rambler, and I know he sometimes strikes out for the Territories, or at least for the Baskervilles up behind the house, but by the time I had changed clothes, fed Dixee, and prepared his supper, Jinx still hadn’t appeared. And I began to be uneasy.

I walked a half-mile down the road, calling and calling. I encountered a couple of the neighbors, neither of whom had seen Jinx but both of whom promised to keep an eye out for him. I called Mrs. Orr to let her know the situation, and asked her to pray, and then I went up into the woods and walked the perimeter, then over to the south pasture, then back to the road and to the cemetery and fields adjoining it. No Jinx.

I grabbed the binoculars and headed out in the Ford, all windows down, calling the spotted menace’s name every minute or so. Up onto the county road, I went down to the little country church where I took the steeple photo that graces this blog’s masthead, then backtracked and came back down our road, intending to loop back past our place and head down to the spring and the wild area below it. As I started to pass our driveway, I saw something lying in the yard. I slowed and lifted the binoculars to my eyes.

It was Jinx

And he was stretched out on one elbow like a homosexual actor on the Riviera, sunning himself and quite content. I was enraged. I was relieved. I was apoplectic. By the time I reached the house, Jinx was his usual kangarooing self, bounding around, tongue hanging out, happy to see the old man. When I stepped out of the vehicle, I almost fell to the ground. That’s when I realized that my knees were weak and trembling. So I did a slow motion fall-down, and sat there on the warm spring grass with a spotted dog licking my face and my arms, and I kept thinking So this is what a badass Marine martial artist has come to?

So I arose and we went inside, and Jinx grinned his clown grin while I scowled and upbraided him and threatened him and pronounced sentence on him, and then he ate a good supper while I called my wife to tell her the news, and then I fell down into a chair and stared at the trees for a while and realized that I’d gotten off easy this time, and that a day would come when the end of the day would be quite different, but I accepted this truth as I have from the beginning of my life with this peculiar dog.

My Jinx is home, and I am grateful to my wife for her prayers, and for the prayers of the Blessed Virgin and of Saint Joan of Arc, and Saint Francis of Assisi, and of Christ the Lord.

C.S. Lewis wrote, “The pain now is part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.” Someday, the pain of losing Jinx will force me to fix my thoughts on the happiness I have in his company now.  That’s the deal. And I accept that.

~ S.K Orr