http://www.kinston.com/Details.cfm?StoryID=11561
Walk into the animal shelter operated by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and your greeter is likely to be Jack.
He's sophistication with a touch of down-home comfort. He's generosity with underlying steel. He's as handsome as a model with just enough flaws to prevent others from being intimidated.
Jack, a collie-chow mix, is the protector, the comforter, the welcomer at the shelter. Whether the visitor has two feet or four, Jack is glad to see them.
His life hasn't always been as pleasant as it is today. The humans at the shelter believe Jack is repaying them for rescuing him.
"I was picked up in the county by an animal control officer," Jack explains through his human interpreter, Holly Martin. "I'd been shot in my back leg, and I'd been hit by a vehicle."
A group of people at Lenoir Community College heard about Jack's plight and raised several hundred dollars to pay for his surgery. A Kinston veterinarian repaired his body. Martin and shelter manager Camilla Johnson repaired his spirit.
For weeks, the women took Jack to a pond where he swam, strengthening the muscles that would allow him eventually to walk and then to run.
"My human family found out where I was, and they all came to see me," Jack recalls, through his interpreter. "The whole bunch of them came. When they left, they said they'd be back. I waited and waited. Finally, they did come back, but they just looked at me and laughed. Then they left again."
Jack was heartbroken.
Jack's interpreter called the owner and told him that he had left his canine friend there too long, thereby surrendering all rights to the dog.
"When they walked away a second time, it really hurt Jack," Martin said. "He dropped his head. When a dog drops his head, it means he's lost his spirit. He knows it's over. They'll die. They've already died inside. They get despair, just like people."
But this would not be the end for Jack. Some indomitable spark inside ignited the dog's determination.
That was eight or nine years ago. Nobody is quite sure just how long ago it all happened.
Jack recovered enough so that he became eligible for adoption. The human family returned him to the shelter when, time after time, Jack refused to stay confined inside a fence. Too many times, the family would look in the yard to find Jack and see that he'd dug another hole, scooted under the fence and was snuggled down outside the boundary.
Even today, Jack won't be fenced in. He's a roamer, an adventurer.
"Hide and seek is my favorite thing to do," he says. "Camilla and Holly will go looking for me in the woods, but I can blend in so well they can't find me. I have my special paths, and I check them every day. I like finding new scents."
Jack's life is not without responsibility. His most important task is comforting new animals at the shelter. Give him a litter of kittens or puppies, and he's as close to heaven as he'll ever get. Give him an anxious or frightened newcomer, and Jack becomes a canine tranquilizer.
Once upon a time, Jack had a friend: Andy D. Dog. Humans at the shelter believe Andy was stolen. Apparently, Jack believes the same thing.
"There's a vehicle that comes by here twice a day," Jack says. "Every time I see it, I bark as long and as hard and as mean as I can. I know that's the vehicle that took Andy away and tried to take me. I'm never going to let that vehicle come back in this yard again."
Today Jack has a new friend: Zena the Warrior Queen Dog. The two have become fast friends, but Jack has never forgotten Andy.
Just as he's never forgotten his human friends at West Pharmaceutical Services, once next door to the SPCA. He was a constant guest at the employees' picnic table. As sure as clockwork, Jack appeared at the table for breakfast at 10 or 10:30 a.m. The employees were always ready to share their munchies.
He still visits West, wondering and watching for his human friends to return.
