Chapter 1-Jimmy Meets Lance!

There’s that dog, again!
Every time Jimmy Tucker walks by this house in his hometown of Mount Bethel, Pennsylvania, a black and white dog charges at him. The dog’s doing the same thing today. Just like all the other times, he’s restrained by a short wire attached to his collar. That wire, called a lead, is fastened to a run, a long, thick cord attached to a pulley system supported by two solid wooden posts thirty feet apart. The dog can only walk between the posts, so he can’t reach Jimmy.

Today, Jimmy decided to talk to the dog for the first time. From the road, the ten-year-old  called out. “Hey, doggie! Are you friendly? Are you a good dog?”
A man raking leaves in the back yard shouted, “His name is Lance!”
“Mister, is he your dog?” asked Jimmy.
The man grumbled, “Yes, I’m afraid so. Never really liked dogs but I’m stuck with him.”
“Does…Does he bite?” asked Jimmy, with concern in his voice.
“Hasn’t bitten anyone so far, at least not that I’m aware of,” the man said. “And he better not, if he knows what’s good for him!”
Feeling a little more confident, Jimmy asked, “Can I pet him?”
The man warned, “Go ahead if you want to. Just be careful. Don’t blame me if he doesn’t like you.”
Jimmy walked over to Lance. The dog jumped up on the young boy, knocking him over.
The man laughed. “I forgot to tell you, he’s very energetic.”

Jimmy picked himself up off the ground. He approached Lance a second time, being extra careful so the dog wouldn’t knock him over again. Jimmy gently patted Lance on the head. Then, he sat down on the lawn. Lance took a seat right next to him.
While Lance licked him on his face, Jimmy called out to the dog’s owner, “Mister, what—”
The man interrupted, “My name is Mister Martin.”
“Mister Martin, what kind of dog is he?” asked Jimmy.
In a friendlier tone, Mr. Martin answered, “He’s a border collie. Supposed to be smart as a whip, or so they tell me.”
“He’s cool!” Jimmy exclaimed.
Mr. Martin answered, “I suppose so.” Seeing an opportunity, he asked Jimmy, “You want him? He’s yours.”
“Really?” Jimmy’s felt a rush of excitement. I’m going to get my very first dog! Just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, Jimmy asked again, “Really?”
“You bet!” Mr. Martin sweetened the deal. “I’ll throw in the doghouse and run for free. I’ll even bring them to your place. Where do you live?”
 “Real near here.” Jimmy pointed with his finger. “Maybe six or sev-sev-seven houses that way. You know the apartment houses?”
“Sure do. Perfect. Do we have a deal?” asked Mr. Martin.
“Yup!” Jimmy couldn’t believe his good luck. Wait til I tell mom!

Jimmy petted Lance some more. Leaning on the rake he’d been using, Mr. Martin gave it some more thought. “I don’t think it’s that easy. I’d have to get the okay from your parents.”
Not letting anything dampen his enthusiasm, Jimmy confidently said, “Oh, my mom won’t mind. I know it!” Jimmy hesitated before he was able to continue. “I betcha she says yes!”
Unconvinced, Mr. Martin said, “I’m sure she probably will, but I’ll have to check just to be sure. What’s your name?”
“Jimmy.”
“Jimmy what?” Mr. Martin asked impatiently.
“Jimmy Tucker.”
“And your phone number?” asked Mr. Martin.
Anxious, Jimmy answered with a stutter. “F-F-Five seven zero…five nine five…”Jimmy had to remain quiet a few moments before continuing. “…five six two f-five.”
Mr. Martin asked a question that embarrassed Jimmy. “Do you get tongue-tied, kid?”
Disappointed in himself, Jimmy answered, “Yeah, sometimes.”

Lance’s owner took out his cell phone and dialed the number Jimmy had given him. He had a brief conversation with Margaret Tucker, Jimmy’s mother.
When it was over, he hung up the phone and walked over to Jimmy. “Son, unfortunately, you can’t take the dog. Your mother tells me you live in an apartment where only cats are allowed.”
Overwhelmed with disappointment, Jimmy replied, “No way! That isn’t fair! If you can have a c-cat, why can’t you have a dog?”
“Take that up with your landlord. Believe me, I’m just as sorry as you are.”
Jimmy got back on his feet. Disappointed, he said, “Bye, Lance. See you, Mister Martin.”
“Son, too bad we couldn’t do business.”
While Mr. Martin resumed raking the yard, Jimmy walked back out onto the road, but then turned around and called out, “Sir, c-c-c-could I walk Lance sometimes?”
Mr. Martin stopped his yardwork and shouted back to Jimmy, “I don’t know. Are you strong enough for him?”
Jimmy proudly exclaimed, “Yes, I am! I can do almost fifteen push-ups!”
Mr. Martin laughed: “Okay, Superman! But I still have to get your parents’ permission for that too.”
“I know they’ll let me. I know it!”

Mr. Martin decided to end the conversation. “Tell you what...I’m busy right now. I’ll call your folks later and we’ll see what happens.”
“I just live with my mom.” Jimmy was loaded with enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, Mister Martin. It’s prac...prac…tically a done deal!”
For the second time, Jimmy headed home, but he didn’t get far before he made a quick turn and rushed back to Mr. Martin’s yard. “I just thought of something, Mr. Martin. I don’t have a leash.”
“Don’t worry. I have one. Good as new. Hardly ever been used. Now, how about you let me get back to work?”
“Okay, see ya!”

Jimmy left Mr. Martin’s property and ran straight home without stopping. When he got there, Jimmy couldn’t wait to tell his mom about his plan to walk Lance. As soon as he got in the door, he asked his mother, “You know that black and white dog that lives up the street and is always outside?”
Jimmy’s mother nodded her head. “Yes, I do. I’ve always felt bad for that poor pooch. He’s got to be lonely out there by himself all the time. But, like I just now told Mr. Martin on the phone, we’re not allowed to have dogs in our apartment.”
Jimmy frowned. “Yeah, I know.”
Jimmy’s mom tried to console him. “The owner of this apartment has the right to set the rules. At least, we have our cat Ashley. Someday, we’ll have a house of our own and then you’ll be able to get a dog. I promise.”
Jimmy had more to share with his mom. “Anyway, Lance doesn’t have to be by himself all the time anymore. Mr. Martin told me I could walk him if I wanted to, and I want to!”
Jimmy’s mother had a question. “Do you think you can manage a big dog like that all by yourself? He looks very strong to me.”
Jimmy was ready with an answer. “No problem. Like I told Mr. Martin, I can do lots of p…push-ups. And we don’t even have to get a leash. Mr. Martin will let me use his. Please, Mom! Can I, please?!”
After she thought it over, Jimmy’s mother said, “I don’t see why not. It’s worth a try. But, if he turns out to be a bit too much for you—”
Jimmy didn’t let his mom finish speaking. He blurted out, “He isn’t! I know he isn’t! Can I go walk him right now? Please?! Please?! Please?!”
Jimmy’s mom  was touched by her son’s plea. “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
Too emotional to speak,  he simply nodded his head in agreement.
“I’ll run it by your father just to make sure it’s okay with him too. I’m pretty sure it will be. Then, I’ll have to call Lance’s owner to—”

The phone rang. Jimmy’s mother answered it. “Mister Martin, hello! This is Margaret Tucker. My son was just telling me all about his visit with you. He says you’re okay with him walking your dog.”
From the other end of the line Lance’s owner said, “I don’t have any problem if you don’t. Your son just has to keep him on the leash, that’s all I ask. I don’t want any lawsuits.”
“Of course! I completely understand. Thank you for giving my son this opportunity. Jimmy’s wanted a dog all his life. This will be the next best thing. I’ll check with his father and get back to you.”
Mr. Martin said, “I’ll wait for your call.”
Margaret hung up the phone and turned to her son. “Let’s see what your dad says. I don’t think he’ll have an issue with this.”

An hour later, over the telephone, Roger Tucker, Jimmy’s father, gave his son permission to walk Lance. Jimmy’s dad threw in a bit of fatherly advice: “Remember son, he’s not your dog so be extra careful with him. Be responsible.”
The second he hung up the phone, Jimmy said to his mother,” Dad says it’s okay. Can I walk the dog maybe tomorrow?”
After giving it some thought, his mother said, “Tomorrow’s Monday. A school day. It’ll be too dark by the time you get home. Why don’t we wait until the weekend?”
“Aw-w-w, do I have to?”
“I think that would be the best bet for your safety and Lance’s too. Let’s hang in there until next Saturday.”
Jimmy wouldn’t give up. “But today’s Sunday. Saturday is so f-f-far away. Can’t I walk him sooner? Please, Mom?”
“Saturday will be here before you know it. You’ll see.”
Not totally convinced by his mother’s optimism, Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and said half-heartedly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jimmy would have to wait almost a full week before he could walk Lance for the first time. A wait that would seem like forever.

Please email me at [email protected] if you'd like me to let you know when this book becomes available. Thank you!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Except for my childhood dog, all the pooches I’ve had in my life either found me or were found by me. Each of these dogs was special in their own way, but two had an especially profound impact on my life.

Rex, a German shepherd, was in my life from the end of my first-grade school year until I was a junior in college. I now see in hindsight that, when I was growing up, Rex kept me more grounded than any human did. He plays a special role in the series of books I have written about Arthur, a fictional character that is solidly grounded in fact. In the book, I describe a situation in which Rex rescues me—er, Arthur—from an attack by five other dogs. Though I can’t give away all my secrets as a writer, I admit here that this particular vignette is completely factual.

Many years later, I met Lance, a border collie. I rescued him from a bad situation, and he returned the favor in multiple ways. Lance was ten years old when I met him. I guess you could say Lance was an old dog that taught this old rescuer new tricks.
How did my time with Lance affect me?

• He forced me to take those mammoth hikes that helped melt a few inches off my waistline. Unfortunately, the reduced weight turned out to be a temporary phenomenon.:)
• Seeing a similarity between Lance’s life and mine(described in Chapter 40 of Lance: A Spirit Unbroken) led me to re-evaluate the meaning of life in general and my life in particular.
• Lance gave me the impetus to try tying up a loose end in my life (described in the final chapter of Lance: A Spirit Unbroken). I’m still working on that.
• My experience with Lance motivated me to donate money and my time to local rescue organizations.
• He taught me and a good number of my readers to be on the lookout for other dogs in Lance-like situations. Lance’s message: Don’t just look, act! I hope the Arthur series has the same result when it comes to protecting children.
• Finally, Lance motivated me to belatedly  take the plunge and start writing. That effort has produced  four published books with three more in the works. Every single word I have written since 2010 is the direct result of the time I spent with Lance. He continues to be my literary mentor. In the interest of journalistic honesty.
  
• P.S, In the interest of journalistic honesty, I confess the German shepherd in the above photo is not Rex. Rather, it’s a photo of Thea, my book editor’s pet. Alas, I have no old photos of Rex, but he lives on in my memory.
  

 
What has a dog (or dogs) done for you? Please post your thoughts below.

Dog rescued by FHP is renamed and being cared for... (youtube.com)
Followup to this story...Dog found along Tampa Highway renamed ‘Trooper’ now in foster care (local10.com)

Family reunited with dog found stuck in treetop after Helene flooding (youtube.com)


Family dog finds 11-year-old boy under several feet of rubble after mudslide during Helene...(youtube.com)

Bonus: Here's a video that never fails to uplift! I've posted it before but I always go back to view it when I'm looking for inspiration.             Click here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IhqE8IIzUA

GOOD STUFF!
Dogs rescued: bit.ly/3WLfhs0bit.ly/3WLfhs0
Dog saves owner and other dogs: bit.ly/3M8ZKfP

It's all good!
Dogs rescued:  bit.ly/3WLfhs0

Dog saves owner: bit.ly/3M8ZKfP

Here’s a little something I found in my archives. I didn’t write it so I can’t take credit ( or blame 😊) for its content:
Why is a dog such a great therapist?
                  1-You can babble on endlessly and he won’t interrupt you.
                 2-He never gives you needless advice.
                 3-He’s always providing positive feedback.
                 4-He doesn’t fake his interest in you.
                 5-He’s not in it for the money; he’ll settle for kibble.
                6- He makes sure every session ends on a positive note.
                7-He never violates your confidentiality.
                8-His nurturing skills are unparalleled.
                9-Scheduling appointments is a breeze.
               10-He never double-books appointments.
               11- A dog helps you break life down into its simplest and best parts.
               12-He is on 24-hour call for any emotional emergency.
           13-Minutes into watching your dog at rest or play  you forget what was worrying you; try that                with a human therapist.
 
Can you add to the above list? Can you share personal experiences that validate or invalidate any of the above claims?                          

One morning a few weeks ago, I woke up and felt like I was on death’s doorstep. Later that day, the hospital  laboratory results confirmed my suspicion. Upon being admitted and due to my serious condition, I had to endure extremely aggressive treatment. Unfortunately, that treatment consisted of endless blood drawings (sometimes with two nurses drawing blood simultaneously, one from each arm), test upon test, including one procedure that included having a needle injected in my lower spine, and a colonoscopy, the preparation for which is—in my humble opinion—medically approved self-abuse.

The rational part of me knew my life was on the line and that justified the sometimes excruciatingly painful treatment procedures. On the other hand,  the emotional part of me was getting worn down by the daily regimen I was being subjected to. I began having doubts that I could keep enduring the discomfort the medical team was inflicting on me. I no longer was certain I’d have the ability to see things through. The thought of leaving the hospital AMA (against medical advice) occasionally popped into my head. I felt I simply wasn’t as tough as I used to be.

About five days into my stay, I was lying in my gloomy hospital bedroom bed looking outside at the gloomy late November weather and keeping myself busy with my gloomy thoughts. That’s when I met Shane.

A lady knocked on my door and asked, “Do you want to have a visit from a therapy dog?” Do I? “Please, by all means. “ Talk about “just what the doctor ordered”. In trotted Shane, a standardbred poodle (photo of his breed shown below). He headed straight for me, stopping at the edge of my bed. I reached over and petted him while he slobbered on my hands. My wife Clara happened to be in the room, and he gave her similar attention.

We chatted with Shane’s owner/trainer. Make no  mistake. Therapy dogs are not just friendly pooches that one day had a vest wrapped around them and got to work. They must pass all kinds of rigid obedience tests. For example, they learn not to jump onto a patient or their bed, something countless dogs do by nature.

After spending about fifteen minutes with me, Shane tugged slightly on his leash. His trainer said, “That’s his way of letting me know he’s ready to move on to the next room. He knows he has a lot of patients to see.“
Shane is an ambassador of hope. He may not remember my name, but I bet he remembers my scent. That’s good enough for me.

Years ago, a veterinarian told me that humans ascribe all kinds of behavior and thinking onto animals without having objective proof. I tend to agree with her but all I know is, in the presence of Shane, I immediately forgot about my precarious and uncomfortable medical condition. I left my world and entered his. In his domain, all felt okay, no matter what was going on in mine. It didn’t matter to me if Shane was aware of the magic he was pulling out of a hat or not.

What is it about dogs?

P.S. Up to the day I met Shane, all my lab tests had failed to come up negative for the microbe that had infected me. I could not discharged from the hospital until I provided a sample that  did. And it had to remain infection-free for seventy-two hours following its being drawn. I had blood drawn on Thursday, the day after I met Shane. The specimen sat for the mandatory seventy-two hours. On Sunday, the infectious disease doctor gave me the good news I had finally passed the “audition”. No new bacteria had grown in my blood, and I was eligible for discharge.

Do I owe all, any or none of my recovery to a dog? I don’t know. All I know for sure is that Shane brightened my day with his visit, and it’s been all uphill ever since that moment.

P.P.S.  Here's a bonus video about another great dog: https://bit.ly/46P4hMe