Each morning my youngest son, Kevin, would go to the barn to feed the cattle before he went to school.

One morning he told me there was "an old dog under the corn crib," and added, "he's nothing but skin and bones and I think he's cut up pretty bad."

My older son, Gary, was home for the weekend so I asked him if he would stop the poor dog's suffering by putting him down the next morning.

So when morning came Gary loaded a gun and went to the barn.  But I didn't hear the shot.

He came back to the house and said, "Mom, has that dog bothered you, killed chickens, anything like that?"

I answered, "No I haven't even seen him."

Gary unloaded the gun and said defiantly, "I won't kill a dog that has done no harm to anyone."

After supper we tried to get the dog to come out but he was too scared, or too weak, so we placed a bowl of food and water as close as we could and left him alone.  The next morning the food was gone, so we left more food ... this time a little farther away.

This went on for two weeks.  Finally the dog was coming to the big open door of the barn to get the food but carefully waiting until his benefactors were safely away.

My husband had been away on business so when he got home I told him about the dog, he went immediately to the barn.

It was love at first sight.  From the back porch I could hear my husband talking to the dog as though he were human.  He said, "You're a good looking dog.  I think I'll call you Jack if that's all right?"

As he turned to walk away he said, "Jack, moms got ham and eggs in the kitchen.  Let's go see if she'll feed us."  Jack walked along beside him as if they had been friends forever.

As we sat on the back porch feeding Jack we noticed he was a pit bull.  With all that had been in the news about this breed of dog I was immediately concerned about keeping him, but my husband said, "Shirly, from the rips in his skin I think Jack might have refused to fight just to entertain his owner. And he chose to die rather than beg or steal
chickens.  We have to give him a chance."

Over the next few years Jack proved himself time and time again, he could move a heard of cattle better than three men, he was the boss and the cows knew it.  Jack never would have hurt a human.

One day as we were sitting down to supper I noticed Jack had not come in to eat.  My son said, "Jack was chasing rabbits in the upper field where they were setting fences," but he hadn't seen him in several hours.  It was after dark so there wasn't much we could do but wait and hope he would come home safely.

Finally I saw him walking slowly through the yard.  Three times I watched him cross the small stream in our back yard as if he didn't know which way to go.  I called to my husband in the living room, "Jack's in the yard.  I think he needs help."

What he found was heart breaking.  Jack had been shot in the head.  I frantically began to call veterinarians, hoping to find someone that would take care of him so late in the evening.  Finally a doctor answered the phone and agreed to meet us.

When my husband brought Jack home, his eyes filled with tears as he told me, "The vet said if he lives through the night he might make it but he's blind and will never see again.  He told me I should put him to sleep, but I just couldn't."

Amazingly, Jack was back on his feet in just a few days.  But how could a blind dog that refused to come in the house survive on a farm?

Over and over again my husband walked Jack around the perimeter of the yard, desperately hoping that Jack would remember where the fences were.  The first day he turned Jack loose in the yard we all held our breath waiting to see if Jack could find his way back to the house.

He was confused at first but within minutes he made it back to the house, proving once again that he had the courage to fight.  When he reached the porch, all the love and admiration he had come to expect from his family was waiting for him.  We laughed, we cried, and we hugged that old black dog as though he was gold.

Jack was an amazing dog that any man would be proud to call friend.

His bravery and commitment to our family will never be forgotten.

                   -- Shirly Greer