Jake

Junk­yard Jake

Jake came out of the Sac­ra­mento dog pound. I didn’t go there look­ing for a dog, I actu­ally wanted a cat, but of course had to go look at the dogs. At the Sacto pound, all the dogs that were picked up on a single day were put in the same cage — one for all the males, and one for all the females. The work­ers would just move the sign that stated their last day: THREE DAYS, TWO DAYS, ONE DAY, and they would get killed at the end of ONE DAY. There was a lot of activ­ity in the THREE DAYS cage, quite a few dogs were growl­ing and pos­tur­ing, scrap­ping, and lift­ing their legs in their food and water dishes. And then there was this blue merle dog lying down in the back with one front leg over the other, look­ing around him with an air of con­fid­ence. “Yep, if I just hang out here, some­thing good will hap­pen.” He struck me, and I hated leav­ing him there when I left (without a cat as well).

I thought a lot about that dog for the next two days, and finally, on the last day, shortly before 5:00 o’clock, I went to see if he was still there. Surely he’d been released.

He was stil wait­ing, still look­ing upbeat and optim­istic. So he came home with me. I told War­ren we’d train him and find a good home. But when a good home came along (a feed lot oper­ator up in Red Bluff thought he’d make a good cow dog) War­ren had bon­ded with the funny little blue dog, and he stayed with us.

Jake was a rogue. No won­der he was in the pound — he took off every chance he got. He’d be gone for a few days and come home worn out and happy. If Jake had been human, he’d have been a smoker, drinker and carouser!

Jake was our demoli­tion derby mas­cot. He loved the noise and activ­ity of the mechanic’s pit and loved hanging out in the car. At the gas sta­tion we worked at, his favour­ite thing was to sit in the customer’s car as it was up on the hoist. From there he would look out the shop bay door and watch the day go by.

Jake was a character.

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