Before I can first remember, a dying elderly man gave my dad a dog he had long admired. I have no idea how old the dog was but he was by no means young. He was big and white with one yellow ear and his name was “Jack.”” Jack took it upon himself to raise my brother and me. He spent the summer of 1957 walking the perimeter of the porch to keep my toddling brother from falling off. Later, my brother rode him. He lost all his teeth, and we fed him soft food, but in the cold months of 1960 or 61, he died. We were heartbroken.
| ♥Jack♥ |
| Ellen Workman |