Jimmy. Yes, that was his name. (What does an eight-year old know about naming his first pet--a German shepard puppy?) Perhaps, in response to the teasing I was getting, I should have named him, more appropriately, "Prince," or "Scout," or "Rover." At the time, though, I thought "Jimmy" sounded more friendly--more like the companion a lonely boy such as myself needed. And for the following year, Jimmy was just that--a loved and lovable companion--a close friend, even!
Each morning we would awaken together, often sharing the same breakfast (although from different plates!), before venturing out for our pre-school stroll. His black, bright eyes and wagging tail seemed to reflect the same joy I felt at being together each early dawn. And then, when reluctantly I left for school, his usually sharply-pointed ears drooped slightly as I gave him my daily farewell hug. His body was warm and trembling at those moments as I snuggled my face into his shiny brown and black fur. Both of us, I felt, looked forward to the afternoon when I returned from school and we could spend the rest of the day together. And we went everywhere. Jimmy, with his oversized paws and black claws, trotted beside me to the playground where I solitarily shot marbles from a ring drawn in the dirt. At the stream, he sat patiently on his haunches, watching as I fished alone. He trekked with me through Brandywine Forest (Delaware) as I pretended to be tracking wild and dangerous game. For that special year, Jimmy was the perfect pal!
But all of this shared joy came to a sudden and tragic end! I returned from school one afternoon eagerly looking forward to another day of pleasure with Jimmy. But, as I approached the house, I did not hear Jimmy's welcoming yelps. Unusual silence was my only greeting. Silence, that is, until my mother, in words that, even today, are heavy with sorrow, "Jimmy is gone, son!" The words hurt like no other pain I have felt before or after. Even my mother's comforting embrace could not console my young grief nor stem my flood of hot tears. (Jimmy had a distemper fit while I was at school and was "put down" by the local A.S.PC.A.) Gone forever was my best friend. Perhaps the most sincere tribute I could offer to Jimmy is the knowledge that he has never been replaced with another pet!
