TheBanyanTree: A Different Kind Of Dog Story.

[NancyIee at aol.com]

I have a lot of dog stories, since I am a trainer with a chain petstore,  but 
today's was unusual.
 
They came in with a rescue dog, around a year old, a bit on the thin side;  
he was still recovering from starvation and abuse. When he should have been  
adolescently insane, as most dogs in his age range, he was quiet, calm, a  
watcher rather than participant.  He surely was not a handsome dog, nor  could I 
tell exactly what breeds had contributed to his gene pool. Sort of a  Pit, 
Greyhound, colliesh sort of mutt, or perhaps some German Wirehair  thrown in. He 
was a wiry brindle, semi long-haired, with a long naked rat tail  that seldom 
wagged.
 
"We wanted a little dog," the young wife part of the couple said, "But we  
could not resist him."
 
I stared at the dog. "What was it that attracted you to him?" I  asked.  When 
I spoke, the dog turned and looked at me.
 
"I don't know," the young husband part of the couple explained. "it's like  . 
. .like we knew him from someplace."
 
"Like an old friend we somehow lost track of and then found again," the  wife 
finished.
 
The dog stared at me, his golden eyes met mine. He walked over to me, and  
sat at my feet, and laid his head on my knee. My hand went to stroke the top of  
his head, as though it had done so a thousand times.
 
"Hi Jake," I said.
 
The husband and wife looked at each other.  "How did you know his  name?" 
they asked.
 
"I don't know. It's probably on his enrollment form," I replied.
 
"We didn't write it down. We didn't know it when we signed up for the  
class." the wife said.
 
I looked at the dog, who still had his head on my knee, and was looking at  
me. I checked his collar, and found no name tag or anything other than his  
rabies tag. I was thinking, perhaps I heard them call to him as they entered the  
class. But, knew that was not so, since they came in quietly and did not 
address  the dog. I honestly couldn't determine how I knew his name. 
 
"He told us his name, too," the husband said. The shelter people were  
calling him Tiger, but he told us his name was Jake."
 
"Jake was my grandfather's name," the husband went on. "He said he wanted  to 
stay alive to see his great grandchild. But, he died of cancer a long time  
ago. The same day we went to the shelter to get Jake, we found out we were  
pregnant."
 
They both looked at me, expecting me to get it. This impossibly bizarre and  
weird story.
 
The others in the class were ready to start.
 
"I want to welcome you all to  this class," I began. "And, to Jake,  welcome 
. . .back."
 
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