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Jinx
By Ray Pavlak, Winsted
He had come into our lives only ten days before, and then abandoned us as he was once abandoned by others.
He was a handsome Border Collie whose broad muzzle graced with long, whisker-like fur betrayed some Scottish Terrier in his line. He was black except for a broad white vest, white paws, white tip of his long skinny tail, and some white running down and along the sides of his face from those large golden eyes to his broad, black nose. His thin body and large head topped with two floppy, soft ears were carried quite majestically on tall, almost stilt-like muscular legs, which were grounded by wide feet that were white on top with pink padding.
We went to his animal shelter in search of dog who would help fill the void left several weeks before by our gentle companion of 14 years, Cinnamon. Less than a year old, Jinx had a puppy's ways, but his shyness went far beyond a wariness of me and Judy.
We first experienced Jinx's extreme wariness upon reaching his run. He stood on the outer portion and looked at us and the shelter staff member through a transparent door, but would not come to greet either us or our guide. I thought it was an extreme case of shyness, possibly from some previous traumatic experience. Judy thought of the advice her father had given: "If a dog you are interested in will not approach or come to you, beware of taking it as a pet." However, she didn't verbally express it.
I asked if we might take the dog for a walk around the yard, and our guide went for a leash. She got Jinx to come to her at the gate to the outside run. We joined them and tried to make friends with Jinx, but our success was minimal. Still, I thought we should take the dog home, even though Judy was uncomfortable with him.
Why was I so ready to adopt that my desire would cause Judy to put aside her fear and acquiesce? My decision was rooted in my feelings of loneliness, as well as the fact that we had already visited three other shelters. I felt sorry for the dogs, especially the older ones who had a very small chance of finding a home.
My heart especially went out to Jinx, who seemed to have a major problem—one which was probably the reason he, a fine, handsome laddy who even had his photo in the newspaper, had been at the shelter a month without making a connection. The director of the shelter came out to us and was able to hug Jinx and get him to respond, while telling Judy and me that we would soon be able to bond with him and would have a great dog. I felt the same way. Most importantly, I always have been successful in winning over people, even those who were cool or stuck on themselves.
So Jinx was going to love me and, of course, Judy—whether he thought so or not! This was his lucky day! He would have a good home and just about anything he wanted. He could forget his fears and be happy. In return, we would be happy enjoying his happiness and love for us. I realized that he would not accept us quickly or easily, but I was confident we could win him over and be blessed with an exceptional dog.
Weren't Judy and I surprised?! Jinx was not like any other dog either of us had known. Even after he'd gotten used to us, Jinx was frightened by any new noise or by being asked to move from place to place. His response was to cringe if boxed in, or to bolt so that we had to put him on a leash to take him anywhere—even to the car! Although Jinx, like all our dogs, loved to ride.
We tried everything we knew, read about, or were told to try to get him to come to us across a room. He took to the living room rug, first by the coffee table and then near the TV. Once, after our coaxing failed, I led him into the bedroom where he would lie on the rug next to the bed with Judy, and later would not leave except by leash.
Surprisingly, Jinx took to our 10-year-old granddaughter, Chelsea, almost immediately. He responded to her soft voice, affection, play and treats. In a couple of days she had him giving her kisses, rolling around on the living room rug and crossing the room when she called him. Yet, when she tried to lead him outside to "wet," he wouldn't budge.
All this progress went for naught on the tenth day. I was taking Jinx out to the car for shopping when he slipped his chain. Jinx looked at me for a moment until I panicked and moved quickly to replace it around his neck. At that he ran across the road, stopping only a moment in a neighbor's lot to look back. In the meantime, I hollered for Chelsea to join me to try to catch him, and then as we moved after him, he disappeared into the woods at the end of the lot.
We spent that afternoon and night searching the area, mostly by car. People we stopped to talk with and ask for help were friendly, concerned, and willing to phone us if they saw him.
After searching the next day, we were pretty sure Jinx was long gone. So we went on our regular late evening ride around town. Upon returning, our son David and his wife Maria told us Jinx had walked down the street looking at cars, which had to carefully avoid him. They got close to him, but without a leash to grab onto, he was impossible to catch.
Judy and I felt guilty that we had not been around to help. So the next night Chelsea got in the car with me while Judy stayed home to watch for him. We drove slowly around the streets of several blocks where he was last seen. Chelsea leaned out the car window waving a "treat" and softly calling Jinx. We stopped twice when she thought she heard the rings of his dog tags. At one spot in a thicket of evergreen bushes she said she heard him sigh, and left a treat before we pushed on.
On our last swing, Chelsea found the treat still untouched. She was finally betraying the fact that she was losing hope by pleading for Jinx to please come to us as we rode. By the time we approached her house, where David was waiting, Chelsea was crying openly. With a child's faith, she had been certain Jinx would come to her.
Having this last failure, all of us now felt, even though we couldn't talk about something so painful, that Jinx was lost to us forever!
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