by E. P. Ned Burke

Created on: November 04, 2008

The first time I saw him he was lying on his back in my neighbor's backyard with his tongue hanging out. A few minutes earlier, Mrs. Haddock had knocked on our door and begged my mother to help her.

"It's Jimmy!" she had said excitedly. "I think he's had a heart attack."
My mother, never having met the new neighbors who had moved into the neighborhood the day before, was shocked at the news. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

Mrs. Haddock shook her head. "No. Just come with me. He's in the backyard."
When my mother discovered "Jimmy" was a dog, a huge Saint Bernard, she was reluctant to check on his status. I was eight years old at the time and had no fear of dogs, but this canine had a head like a buffalo. His mouth was open as wide as a drawbridge and his eyes were closed. He looked dead. But when I took a timid step closer, he leaped up and knocked me to the ground.
Then he slobbered all over me and my mother screamed and Mrs. Haddock tried to pull him away. But I was not afraid. I could see in his big brown eyes that he meant me no harm.
When I finally pushed away his head and got to my feet, Mrs. Haddock apologized and said Jimmy liked me. The feeling was mutual. I loved that big dog at first sight. But it surprised me that he was only two years old. Heck, he already weighed nearly 170 pounds.
Anyway, I helped Mrs. Haddock tie Jimmy to a tree. A few minutes later, he snapped the rope as easily as a piece of thread and took off after a gaggle of little girls. That dog sure loved kids. As the days passed, parents became concerned with his habit of knocking their little tykes on their keisters.
I always knew when Jimmy had broken loose; I'd hear a neighbor scream. For some reason I felt it was my job to get to him before the police did. Eventually the Haddocks chained Jimmy to a doghouse that was about the size of my dad's DeSoto. They were certain it would restrain their dog from terrorizing the neighborhood again. Sadly, however, they underestimated the strength of a large Saint Bernard. Jimmy dragged that huge doghouse up and down our street as if it were a tin can on a car bumper. The Haddocks then built an even larger doghouse. Sadly, the result was the same. Finally they opted to enclose Jimmy behind a heavy wire fence, cemented into solid concrete. But it didn't take long for Jimmy to figure out that the wire door was the weak link and he crashed through it easily, leaving his chain and doghouse behind.
One time he bolted free and followed me to school.

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