This is the true story of my life. It is rather an unusual story and my mistress wanted me to share it with you.
I was born in South America, in the beautiful city of Cali, Colombia, in the shadow of Central Cordilleras of the Andes Mountains, halfway between Bogota and Buenaventura. My ancestors are French, but my father was born in Costa Rica. He moved to Cali, Colombia with his American family where he met my mother, a fourth generation Colombian. I, too, would still be living in Colombia, but for the fact that I was adopted by an American family when I was only six weeks old. Of course, I had no say in the matter, but they have been a fine family to grow up with. Of course, I was bilingual almost from the start and learned all my commands in both English and Spanish, for example: ‘sientese’ means ‘sit down’ and ‘venga’ means ‘come’.
One day, when I was about one and a half years old, my American family announced they were going to be returning to their homeland, the United States, to live. I had heard them talk about that place, so it was with great excitement that we all packed up and left what I would later refer to as civilization.
After a treacherous and dangerous drive across the coastal range of the Andes Mountains, we arrived at the steamy and dirty port city of Buenaventura. My great adventure was about to begin. Frankly, I wanted to return immediate to my old home for I had been sick most of the journey. Cali is a beautiful city, surrounded by the Andes with its clean streets, beautiful trees, and pretty shops. We had a lovely home and a beautiful garden.
She is so kind to share with me.
The Rio Cali had been only a block from the house and the children used to walk all along the bank where I chased iguanas, startling them as they sunned on the rocks. It was a terrific game, but I was glad I hadn’t caught one, for I don’t know what I would have done! By comparison, the air in Buenaventura was so dense I found it difficult to breathe, and when I did breathe deeply, it smelled bad. The family soothed me and lavished a great deal of attention upon me, so naturally I forgave them for taking me away from my birthplace. In spite of myself, I actually began to look forward to the voyage which we had planned for such a long time. Little did I suspect what was in store for me.
It was midnight when we finally walked the gangplank. I never discovered the ship was sailing at such an hour, and I was far too excited to be tired. It was a magnificent ocean liner, the first I had ever seen. I realized at last that I was to be in my own elitist element. Talk about luxury, this ship had everything. Polished brass was everywhere. The deck was scrubbed, heavy furniture gleamed in the artificial light. Gold frames adorned the paintings on the bulkhead and handsome officers smartly dressed in white starched uniforms, greeted the passengers.
Of course, I, too, had been freshly clipped and shampooed the day before at the best dog parlor in Cali and looked terribly smart myself. You see, in spite of my Colombian birth, I am really a French poodle. My black coat glistened that night and I was aware that the other passengers were admiring me. My family had wanted me to look my very best for the trip for which I was grateful.
I was standing at attention on the deck by my mistress, taking in all the new and wonderful sights, when an officer appeared and plucked my leash from her hand saying he would now take me to my quarters. My own room! How thoughtful, I mused, as I happily followed him. We skipped up several flights of stairs, which I later learned were called ‘ladders’, until we were at the very top of the ship. I eagerly looked around at the view, though I could see little since it was dark on shore as well as on the ocean side. But tomorrow, I thought, I could peer out over the waves from my special penthouse. I suspected I must have the best quarters on the entire ship. Little did I know! I couldn’t wait and eagerly pulled at the end of my leash in anticipation. Before I knew what was happening, the officer (Whom I learned later was a steward. I had been fooled by his uniform.) pulled me into a cage, unsnapped my beautiful new leash and hooked it onto the mesh door which slammed shut. I had been betrayed! It was bare except for a small cushioned bed which felt like it was stuffed with straw. I jumped up at once and pushed on the door with my front legs. It didn’t move. I had been locked away like a common dog, alone, high above the rest of the world and away from my family. Where were they anyway? I had to let them know at once what had happened. If I didn’t howl, they would never find me. I opened my muzzle and held my head back and let out my most mournful howl. Nothing happened although I did it several times. Impatiently, I began to bark my special yapping bark. I used all the different tones and moods I knew. Still, no one came. My throat began to hurt. Water! I found lukewarm water in a common bowl and finished half of it before I began the tirade again. I had never spent a night alone in my life. I had a large family consisting of three girls and one boy, my master, and of course, my beloved mistress. They all loved me, and I knew they would not stand for this treatment. Fatigue was taking hold, and I lay down on the straw mat.
“I’m relieved you have finally shut up! It won’t do you any good to carry on like that, you know!" a voice said. I leapt up, pressing my nose against the heavy mesh wire of my cage. “Who said that?” I demanded. “I did,” the voice answered. “Welcome aboard, Mate.” I looked hard through the wire and saw a big Weimaraner lying there. He lifted his head and demanded, “What’s the name of this port, Sonny?”
“My name is Jacques, not Sonny,” I told him. “And the port is Buenaventura.”
“Oh, Colombia, is it? We still have the Canal to pass through then. About halfway there, since I got on board in Chile. They say going through the Canal is boring and hot, takes all day. But it should be a mite smoother than the Pacific. But then, there’s the Gulf Stream to pass before we reach New York.” He didn’t give me a chance to tell him about myself but rudely kept on talking, “I’ve been so dizzy these last few days, I’ve lost all track of time. We’re so high up here we rock fore and aft all the time. And when the wind is right, or wrong, if you please, the odors rise up from the galley right up through the ventilator shafts and into our quarters.”
I was about to comment on the terrible heat and humidity, being so different from Cali where I came from which was always cool in spite of being almost directly on the equator. This was because of the altitude and the breezes which swept down from the mountains, but that rude, egocentric dog didn’t let me get a word in.
“This is my second trip. I hope my family stays put this time. Ocean travel is no fun.” With that, he groaned, rolled over and went to sleep. I could see he would not be interesting company. We had nothing in common. Personally, I loved excitement and wasn’t about to sleep away my life, even if I got seasick. I was determined I would not stand for this shabby treatment, being put off in a dark cage away from the family I loved. I barked awhile longer, but it had been a long day, and I gave up from sheer exhaustion and fell into a deep slumber. I awoke sometime later to a gentle rocking motion and realized we had at last put out to sea. I jumped up and looked around, but it was still dark around me. I barked a few more rounds but sleep soon overtook me again.
Early the next morning my master came for me and we had a brisk walk together on deck. The children soon joined us, and we had a wild game of tag. I got my first real glimpse of the sea and was thrilled. Land was out of sight, and the whole world was blue, the sky, the wave, as far as I could see in any direction. The salty air was exhilarating, so different from Buenaventura.
I felt quite smug when a member of the crew came on deck and took my suitemate for a short walk. We hadn’t spoken that morning, since he was still asleep when Master came for me, and I was too excited to wake him up to introduce them. I knew he must envy me, having my family to romp and play with me. His family must not have cared for him at all, I thought. After a fast game of ‘fetch the ball’, I was hot and thirsty and dashed to my quarters for a drink. Master reached in and unhooked my leash and shut the door. I begged him not to leave me and set up a terrible howl to attract the children, but they had already disappeared without saying a word. Suddenly, there I was, alone again, except for my dull, sleepy, lazy suite mate. I noticed he was looking at me through the cage. He raised one eyebrow, squinting at me in a condescending manner, “My family used to come up every morning, too,” he said, ‘but now they sleep late.” He continued, “They usually come up for a few minutes in the afternoon, but for two days they were seasick and didn’t come at all. When they heard that the crew takes us out three times a day for exercise, they began to come less and less. Yours will do likewise; they all do. I’ve traveled by ship before. You might as well forget about them ‘cause they’ll forget about you. Did you know there is a swimming pool on this ship and a game room? There’s a gymnasium and all kinds of things for people to do. The children especially have activities and other children to play with. They don’t need dogs. You’ll see. You’ll see,” he said knowingly. After this disgusting speech, he turned his back to me, sighed and slept again. What a depressing animal, I thought. What he said cannot be true, I told myself, with not a little apprehension.
Before I had time to fret very much, that same crew member whom I had mistakenly thought to be an officer, arrived at my cage door with food. I had almost forgotten about that part of the cruise. I had heard the family talk about the wonderful food we could expect aboard ship. I temporarily forgot my worries and wagged my tail with delight as he placed a dish in my cage. I was famished. I took one look at the offering and turned my back. If I ate one mouthful, I would be ill. It was dried dog food. I had never seen it or heard of it before. This was an American ship. “Did American dogs eat this stuff?” I wondered.
I pouted the rest of the day and refused to eat a bit. I had been raised on fresh hamburger in Colombia, along with vegetables and bread. I was not about to change my eating habits. The untouched dish was taken away, and I was grateful not to have to look at it any longer. I knew my family would bring me up some decent food when they came to play. But their hands were empty except for that damn ball, which I certainly didn’t feel like fetching after an entire day and night of fasting. In fact, I had not eaten anything since we left Cali, and what I had eaten there, I lost on the way to Buenaventura, all over the car rug.
I had a fitful night and my stomach was cramping. I didn’t know if I was seasick or hungry, though the two didn’t seem to go together. When the steward walked happily to my cage with more dried dog food the next morning, I managed to drag myself over to the dish this time and sniff. Reluctantly, I licked a piece. Not bad, I thought and chewed it up. Not bad at all, I repeated. Before I knew what happened, the entire bowl was empty. “Perhaps this was special fare for traveling dogs, to keep them from getting seasick,” I told myself. I presented this theory to Prince (He had finally introduced himself!) who answered, “No, I hate to tell you, but in the States, you don’t get red meat. It’s too expensive. You’ll be lucky if you even get canned dog food. Because of my size, they never buy it for me when we’re home. I get the dried stuff day in and day out. Most of it’s not bad though. You’ll get used to it.” Well, he was trying to be more pleasant, at least, I thought. I was grateful for that.
By the time we reached the Panama Canal, I was hoarse from barking and could hardly hear myself. Alas, I, too, had found that no one cared any longer. The children spent their time below playing deck tennis, shuffleboard and swimming. They dropped in once a day for about five minutes which only upset me more. It would have been better had they not come at all. And sure enough, the family all got seasick as Prince had warned so I didn’t see them once for two whole days. Not that I cared much, for I felt lousy, too. Take my advice right now, don’t waste your money on an ocean voyage. As I lay quietly in my bed, having lost all sense of time and wondering just what was coming next in my life, my master came for me. We were arriving in New York harbor. There were no regrets on my part when we left the ship forever. I bid adieu to Prince, who grunted and said, “So long, Sonny,” with nary a glance in my direction.
Chapter 2
After we came ashore, it took me awhile to get over being ‘land sick’. Imagine that! I felt quite giddy and kept falling all over myself. I was wobbly as a puppy. After about thirty minutes, I got my bearings again and by that time we were almost through Customs. I felt rather important when an important looking official asked to examine my papers, which were to my intense relief, in proper order. We proceeded through the gate, and I must say, I was delighted to be in the USA at last! We all climbed into a long black limousine for our trip to the hotel. Little did I know this was to be the only first-class travel accommodation I would enjoy for some time. Actually, if I had known what was in store for me, I would have begged the Customs official to ship me back to Colombia that day!
Our hotel was in the heart of this huge, dirty, noisy city named New York which was actually filthier than Buenaventura. The odors were different from any I had ever smelled before, and I found out right away there were very few trees to speak of. That had been the foremost thought on my mind ever since the ship, because, of course, I had really missed having a tree aboard ship. You can imagine my disappointment.
As soon as we settled into our hotel suite, my mistress offered to take me out for a walk. Master had already made it clear that he would not be seen walking a French Poodle on the streets (He had never walked me in Cali, either.). We rode the elevator to street level, which was quite exciting to ride one of those, and then briskly out the door. I soon discovered that there were only two trees to every city block, and those had wire around them. My mistress kept dragging me over to the curb, mumbling to me something about signs that read 'Please Curb Your Dog'. I was totally confused. I could not find the right place. It was so new to me. Where there had been no odors on the ship to inspire me, there were thousands here. After several unenthusiastic attempts, my mistress allowed me to continue the walk. We passed an American grocery store. She tied me outside while she went in. It seems Americans have many unnecessary health laws. I desperately wanted to go in and set up a howl which she ignored. In a few minutes she came out with several cans of dog food.
We were soon back at the hotel, which I had been looking forward to in order to settle down with the family at my side after the many days locked away on the ship away from them. How foolish I was to think they would feel the same way. Not at all. They locked me up in the bathroom the first night so management couldn’t hear my cries of terror and loneliness after first giving me my supper from one of those dreadful cans of dog food. They were going out to dinner. They needn’t have worried that I would disturb hotel guests with my barking. I could barely howl! I cried for them so much on the ship, I had almost lost my voice. All things considered, I behaved pretty well in that hotel, the first of many I would encounter. However, later I developed a phobia and caused no little bit of grief to the family.
By the time we were ready to leave New York City, I was ready to go and delighted to discover there was more to the U.S. than that. In fact, I was to cross the continent that summer and more than halfway back again before I would find my real home. It was to be the most difficult summer of my life, and I must tell you that the real adventure begins at this point.
A Week in Baltimore
New York was no place for a nature lover like me. It was all concrete and glass. I was ready for the real United States. The children explained to me that we were going to ride in another taxi, this time to the airport, and we would take a plane ride to Baltimore, Maryland. I heard Master say that because of me, we had to fly. Apparently, the passenger train, which was cheaper, wouldn’t take dogs, and he was grumbling because of the extra expense. They didn’t tell me I would have to ride in a cage, the cage I had watched Master making in Colombia. It had apparently accompanied us on the ship. I hadn’t realized it was for me, so naturally I was quite pleased and dashed into it at the airport to check it out. He slammed the cage door, exactly like the sailor on the ship, and there I was, confined again. I was frantically barking, to tell my family I would rather be out with them when I was whisked away with the suitcases on the conveyer belt, terrified I would never see my beloved family again. As I was rapidly carried away from them, I could see the four children waving at me. It was a dreadful feeling. I felt the cage being picked up, then set down amidst suitcases in a dark place which I assumed was the plane. Before long I heard the engines being revved up which made a terrible noise. I couldn’t hear myself bark. I hated the noise, but it actually lulled me to sleep. Before I knew it, I felt a jolt and discovered I was being lifted onto another conveyor belt. Guess who was waiting? The four children, waving their arms and making over me! I was very happy and soon I was happily in their arms again. On the way to our rental car, we even found a tree. I began to feel much better then and couldn’t wait to see the City of Baltimore. Master had some business to attend to and after that we would be calling on old friends, since my family used to live here. Our youngest, Diana, was actually born here. She and I had more or less grown up together since she was just a baby when I was adopted by the family. My family wanted to show us both off to their friends.
We rented a station wagon and were off to our motel, which was a brand-new experience for me. I discovered a motel is quite different from a hotel. We parked the car right outside our room and didn’t have to walk through a lobby or ride in an elevator. There was also an abundance of grass and trees which I did appreciate. These looked like first-class accommodations, and I knew it was true when I saw the large swimming pool. The family unpacked the baggage, of which we had an abundance, including my custom-built cage. The two motel bedrooms fairly filled up when we got all our things out of the station wagon. Everyone was sweating and someone suggested having a swim. I barked my enthusiastic reply. I couldn’t wait to go out, and it was my favorite pastime. But, would you believe they went right off and left me? Had they forgotten how we used to swim together in Colombia in our little backyard pool? After their swim, they all dressed to go out, leaving me to eat alone once again. Things had not changed. Well, I had been so hoarse in New York, I had not been able to fully express myself, but now my throat was healed, and I expressed my distress in my best and loudest voice. I simply could not put up with their behavior any longer. After all, I had never been left alone before in Colombia. If the family went out, a servant was always left in the house, supposedly to guard it. You realize, of course, I was the one who performed that service.
As it turned out, someone did hear me and reported the dog abuse to the motel manager. That was the last time I was left alone, for Master insisted a family member always stay behind with me from now on so my barking would not disturb other guests. I did appreciate the manager being so firm with my family. For some reason, the family member who stayed behind always glared at me and made rude remarks about my being such a baby.
The family sometimes brought hamburgers to the room to eat and would sit together and watch television. Television was a treat for them because they had been out of the country so long and had not had this opportunity. I tried my best to let them know I wanted a hamburger of my own to eat. The children were eager to share with me, as they had always been, but their mother shook her finger at me saying I would just have to learn to eat canned dog food. I continued to beg, however, and a few morsels were usually slipped my way when she wasn’t looking.
From the car window I got to see a little of Baltimore, such as Johns Hopkins University where Master had once studied, and the hospital where little Diana was born. I saw the waterfront and the famous row houses with marble steps which looked almost as bad as New York’s buildings. We visited many old friends who gave me the kind of attention I had been missing (I do have good manners when we go visiting.). But I did have one rather harrowing experience which I must tell you about!
We had been invited to dinner at the home of this former neighbor, and since my family could not leave a family member behind for this particular occasion, they asked if they could bring me along. I do love to meet people because of the attention they usually give me. I notice that poodles particularly attract people, and when I am all brushed and combed, they gush over me which makes me show off all my tricks and then I get even more attention. As it turned out, the friends were animal lovers and welcomed me, saying if they had known how lonely I had been in the motel, they would have kept me during our week’s stay in the city. I liked them very much until I met their Siamese cat. My mistress offered to leave me outside, tied up, or in the car, but the nice lady wouldn’t hear of it. It was too hot she said. The entire family made over me, patting my top knot. I don’t think they had ever had a poodle. They did have two dogs in the family, however, but they were rather common ones. They were friendly, in any case and licked me a nice welcome. But, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a cat slinking around a corner, and then come back to stare at me in a most unfriendly way. I had heard about cats from Prince on the ship. What he had to say about them was most unpleasant. In fact, when he found I was inexperienced, he had warned me never to approach one. You see, I had never before met a real cat. I had only seen them on the television commercials. “Children and pets are always welcome here,” our hostess laughed, and I did wag my tail at her to show my appreciation and vowed to be on my best behavior…no jumping on the furniture, or lifting my leg, even with her two dogs present. I would make my family very proud of me. I was anxious to explore this house since this was my first visit inside an American home, and it did indeed smell different from the house where I grew up.
The children had disappeared with their children, but I had sat dutifully by my mistress who had unhooked my leash. I watched for my chance and during their conversation and laughter, slipped away to do a little exploring on my own. I first found the kitchen and discovered the thoughtful family had left a water bowl as well as a bowl of fishy tasting food. It was salty and was actually quite delicious. I wanted to show my appreciation at their thoughtfulness and finished it all up. Then I set out to find where the children were. I could hear their chatter upstairs. After checking on them to see if they were all right, I came back downstairs and on down to the basement. I had just discovered the laundry when “Yeoweeeeee” jumped out of the clothes’ basket. In its fury it swatted and spat at me. At first, I was so scared I didn’t know what it was. I turned tail and ran, leaping up the steep stairs. It was after me. I ran up to find the children, but they had closed the door and were so noisy they couldn’t hear me. By then, I knew it was the cat which I had glimpsed on our arrival, coming after me. I was hard pressed to stay ahead of it, for that cat was right behind me still yowling and spitting. I knew I would find safety in my mistress’ lap which I found as quickly as I could. She was startled as I made the final leap, and she nearly spilled her cup of tea. Instead of being protective and loving, she burst out laughing. Then, they all laughed, just when I needed their support and sympathy. This savage cat hid under the hostesses’ chair growling at me. I was scared and didn’t care who knew it. This had been a terrifying experience for me. It seemed this had been a Siamese cat who had no use for strange dogs. The experience had taught me much about cats and I was never to tolerate a cat again. Certainly, my family would never allow one of the wretched things.
Before we left, I learned that the salty food I had earlier in the kitchen was cat food. One of the children had called out to his mother that Cleopatra, its name, had finished her bowl that had been left for her in the kitchen. It seemed she had been under the weather, and their family had been concerned about her because she had been off her food. Ha, I thought smugly, I hope she starves to death!
When it came time to say goodbye, the nice lady patted my head again and told me she was sorry for her cat’s behavior. Her two common dogs never even got up to say goodbye, in fact, they more or less ignored me after their first brief welcome. I couldn’t understand how they could tolerate Cleopatra, but apparently, they had drawn up some kind of truce in order to live together. I would never agree to that, but it was their family, not mine and frankly, I was happy to depart.
The experience had so unnerved me, I became jumpy and nervous whenever we went out after that. We were due to leave shortly, and Master decided I needed a tranquilizer to help me through our next flight which was to be from Baltimore to Chicago and ultimately to Champaign, Illinois where we were to live. We were to go there to find a house and then would continue our vacation to include visits to see the relatives. He forced a pill down my throat. Naturally, I trusted him, thinking he was doing me a favor. He knew how upset I had been by all the loneliness I had suffered and by the cat incident. He was a doctor and would take good care of me. I put myself in his hands. He checked us out of the motel and when the station wagon was loaded with all our luggage, including my cage, he called me to bring my leash. That was when I discovered I couldn’t walk! My legs wouldn’t hold me for they had become like rubber. I was drooling and my vision was a blur. My mistress picked me up, but my mind became blank, and I remember none of it. However, I’ve heard the family tell about it enough to pain it on. They said I went bezerk. I knocked my mistresses’ glasses off and she lost an earring. I slobbered all over her new dress. It was early summer, and hot that day.
The station wagon did not have air conditioning, but they had to keep the windows closed because I wanted to jump out. Their only thought was to get to the airport as quickly as possible to get me out of the car and into my cage. Master was driving down the freeway when the car suddenly swerved. We had to stop on the edge because of a flat tire. I’ve heard him tell it many times. “There we were, on this busy freeway, four children, fourteen pieces of luggage and a mad dog! The spare tire was under all the luggage and everything had to come out, including the family because of the weight!” He blamed the family for bringing me back to the States. During the tire changing procedure, they were all trying to quiet me, while I was in this state of distress. The children added to the confusion by screaming, “Daddy, you killed Jacques!” We finally made it to the air terminal when I had recovered enough to hear him say, “With the money Jacques is costing us we could have bought the grand champion poodle of the world. This dog doesn’t even have papers and isn’t worth a cent in stud fees.” I’ll show him, I vowed to myself. Though still drunk from the tranquilizer, which was beginning to wear off slightly, I still could not stand up straight. My tongue lolled out the side of my mouth and my eyelids drooped. I must have been a sight!
Master turned in the rented vehicle, and the children and I stayed with our mother. Master shoved me rudely into my cage at the terminal and the children were all standing around me, I think trying to hide me from the public. You know how people stop and gape rudely at most anything. Well, they were stopping alright, to gape at me. I was aware of it but couldn’t help myself. The family explained that I had been given medication for the trip, but that it had had an adverse effect on me. Adverse indeed! Master was trying to do me in. When a porter came for me and stared in surprise, she said, with a fixed smile that I had reacted adversely to my medicine. I was again in my cage and was soon on a conveyer belt as before, but this time they were all crying and loyally trying to follow me. Master had reappeared, and I last saw him trying to lead them away. I had been deserted again.
The station wagon did not have air conditioning, but they had to keep the windows closed because I wanted to jump out. Their only thought was to get to the airport as quickly as possible to get me out of the car and into my cage. Master was driving down the freeway when the car suddenly swerved. We had to stop on the edge because of a flat tire. I’ve heard him tell it many times. “There we were, on this busy freeway, four children, fourteen pieces of luggage and a mad dog! The spare tire was under all the luggage and everything had to come out, including the family because of the weight!” He blamed the family for brining me back to the States. During the tire changing procedure, they were all trying to quiet me, while I was in this state of distress. The children added to the confusion by screaming, “Daddy, you killed Jacques!” We finally made it to the air terminal when I had recovered enough to hear him say, “With the money Jacques is costing us we could have bought the grand champion poodle of the world. This dog doesn’t even have papers and isn’t worth a cent in stud fees.” I’ll show him, I vowed to myself, though still drunk from the tranquilizer, which was beginning to wear off slightly, though I still could not stand up straight, my tongue lolled out the side of my mouth and my eyelids drooped. I must have been a sight!
Master turned in the rented vehicle, and the children and I stayed with our mother. Master shoved me rudely into my cage at the terminal and the children were all standing around me, I think trying to hide me from the public. You know how people stop and gape rudely at most anything. Well, they were stopping alright, to gape at me. I was aware of it but couldn’t help myself. The family explained that I had been given medication for the trip, but that it had had an adverse effect on me. Adverse indeed! Master was trying to do me in. When a porter came for me and stared in surprise, she said, with a fixed smile that I had reacted adversely to my medicine. I was again in my cage and was soon on a conveyer belt as before, but this time they were all crying and loyally trying to follow me. Master had reappeared, and I last saw him trying to lead them away. I had been deserted again.
The cold air of the jet aircraft soon brought me around. Finally, we were in Chicago’s huge O’Hare International Airport, where I eagerly looked through the bars of the cage for the family. They had said they would see me in Illinois, but there was no sign of them. Before I knew what was happening, I was on another conveyer belt and was being placed on a smaller plane. But this time not in the baggage head, but rather in the cabin where I could actually see the pilot and could also smell and hear the passengers. This was more like it! I liked this plane! I could even smell my family! I heard them talking. We were together again! What luck! I barked loudly to let the family know the good news. Then, I heard Master, “You claim your dog. I am going to sit alone in the back of the plane. Don’t come near me. This is your party.” “But Daddy!” I heard. Then my mistresses’ voice, “Robert, don’t act that way.” But I didn’t hear his voice again. I could hear the others, but still, no one came. I barked as loudly as I possibly could to attract their attention. The plane taxied onto the runway. Still, the family didn’t come. I couldn’t understand it. Then I heard the stewardess checking seat belts. That was it. They were strapped into their seats. I longed to be with them but decided we would get together once we were in the air. I continued to cry to let them know I was just behind the curtain by the coat rack. The captain yelled, “Shut that animal up!” A stewardess smacked the cage with paper. But my family didn’t come near. I think they pretended not to hear me. No one came even when we were aloft. I cried and cried for I wanted out of the cage. I couldn’t understand it. My ears began to hurt and the next thing I knew, we were taxing on the ground. When the plane landed, I was unloaded first. This really pleased me, but I can’t repeat what the pilot said to me. He was also rude to my mistress who claimed me once we were on the ground. We walked quickly out to a taxi, both of us holding our noses in the air. Ozark Airlines indeed!
We spent very little time in the motel in Champaign since we were looking for a house to rent. It seemed that most people wouldn’t rent homes to people with children or pets, so we looked for a house to buy. I wanted a yard with trees, of course. It was exciting, but we didn’t find a house. We found a lake instead. Oh, how I longed to run around that lake. They finally took me off my leash, and I ran in circles telling them this would be a nice place for a home. I met several neighborhood dogs right away and some were to become my best friends. There was on particularly lovely silver female French poodle I had my eyes on. Little did I know at this time that she would one day become the most important dog in my life.
My master made up his mind to buy that lot after seeing how happy I was with the location. He signed papers and the plans to build were begun at once. We owned a lake lot! After the transaction was completed, we left to complete our vacation to visit relatives they hadn’t seen for two years and to introduce them to me.
We stored some of our excess luggage in Champaign since we would be returning in six weeks. This eased the problem of getting everyone into one cab, but I noticed that my cage was still with us. We flew from Champaign to St. Louis where we boarded an overnight train to Houston. Master said it was cheaper, and also that he wanted the children to experience a train trip. Later, he grumbled saying it actually cost more for we had to get a compartment so I could be with them. I thought it was delightful. No one stayed with me during mealtimes, for I wasn’t allowed in the dining car. The children shared their carefully sneaked table scraps with me which I thought was extremely thoughtful of them. Later, when the train finally stopped in route, I knew that I had to get off and find a tree! All we found was concrete. America is being ruined by concrete. Frankly, I think it is a bigger problem than air pollution. With master yelling at me to hurry, it was terrible. We barely got back for the “All Aboard.” There were three more relief stops that night. Tension was mounting between my owners. She flatly refused to walk me in her bathrobe at 3 a.m., so he had to put on his pants over his pajamas. The station stops were short, yet with all the excitement, I simply couldn’t last the night. He was simply furious, and if the SPCA only knew how he jerked my leash just because I couldn’t find exactly the right spot!
Houston was something like South America, climate-wise. Hot! I thought we were back actually, but they spoke something unlike either English or Spanish. Somebody called it “Southern.” We were soon whisked away in a friend’s car to her house. As soon as we got out of the car, I knew it wasn’t a ‘pet’ house. But, as she was one of the children’s Godmother, she tolerated me. I was kept in the backyard until dark but barked so loudly they finally let me in for fear the neighbors would be disturbed. I got smacked hard with the Houston Post that time. After the wakeful night on the train, I was so used to “getting up” that I forgot where I was and piddled on the rug. It was the FIRST time in ages, really, since I was a puppy, and I truly was embarrassed and sorry. But when it was discovered, I was smacked again with the Post and banned from the airconditioned house until our departure that afternoon. My mistress was still apologizing when I was taken away again with the bags. While still within earshot, I heard Master ask her if had totaled my air freight bill yet!
Two short hours later we reach San Angelo, Texas. Here was the real west that I had seen on TV in motel rooms. Cowboys, boots, 10-gallon hats, and a real Texas drawl. Again, not English. Master hired a neat looking sports car this time with beautiful red upholstery and bucket seats. We drove happily along in the wide-open spaces to the little town of Sonora where Grandmother lives. She looked nice and the rest of the family seemed to be crazy about her. But she wasn’t nice to me. I was allowed no closer to the interior of the house than the enclosed back porch. She ignored my howling, and no one questioned her authority. One day when they all went to church, I was left behind, on the porch as usual. I barked when I realized they had forgotten to take me with them. I could hardly stand it. I tried to get to the windows to see if I could attract their attention. I leaped up again and again until some flowerpots came crashing down all around me. It was a narrow escape. I knew they would be glad to know I wasn’t hurt. At last I heard them returning and I was so anxious to let them know how much I had missed them. But you should have heard Grandmother! She was so upset about her African Violets. “They are all ruined because of that dog,” she cried. I was truly sorry and licked her leg to tell her, but do you know where they put me? In the chicken house. There were no longer any chickens, but I could still get the scent. I was furious. This was the final insult.
But soon it was Westward-Ho again in our little red car. Everyone kissed Grandmother goodbye but me. She did pat my head, and though I felt I had been highly insulted by her, I tried to be big about it and wagged my tail to show her she was forgiven.
After several hours of driving through the hottest country I had been in yet, we reached an oasis called Ft. Stockton. All I could think about was getting inside the cool restaurant for a drink. I had heard them say we would stop for one. We all jumped out and had a run. One of the children brought me a cool drink of water, and then popped me back into the car while they went inside. I called to say I was hot and hungry, too, but no one came. I cried, scratched and chewed to show my displeasure. When they finally came back, I jumped all over them hoping at least I would find a juicy hamburger. They did have something in a sack but forgot to give it to me. They were all looking at the car. Apparently, in my frustration, I had torn up the rubber weather stripping around the car windows. It was a mess. Everybody stopped talking. No one dared speak because Master was so angry. I even got a swat from Sonora’s weekly newspaper, the Devil’s River News, which had been put on the floor for me to lie on.
Two hours later we arrived in Alpine, located in the Big Bend country of West Texas. We were really in the wild west now. Mountains surrounded us, but I thought of them as hills because I remembered the Andes of my own country. And it was mercifully cool, at last. We stopped long enough to buy supplies and to see a few friends and some relatives. But before long my master said we had to get on to the ranch before dark. It was thirty miles from civilization. There was no telephone, no television. There were not restrictions. Master said the first night, “I hope that dumb dog finds a rattler.” I knew he was tired from the long hot trip and didn’t mean it. He usually was kind to me but only talked that way to impress the family.
After several glorious days of rest in the uncluttered land, I was ready to stay there forever. But to my sorrow, I discovered that the family was getting out their suitcases again. Our next call was El Paso. Talk about wide open spaces. We didn’t go through over two towns in 200 miles. There was a lot of Spanish spoken here. I hoped it meant we were near Colombia but learned that we were on the border of Mexico. Master turned in the car, and I heard him tell the Mrs. that it was their good luck the car was insured, because it saved us over $100 in damages. Since I had quieted down considerably during the ranch vacation, they decided to risk leaving me alone again the motel room. This was a very fancy motel near the airport. Long flimsy curtains were drawn over the glass doors which looked out over the patio and pool. Honestly, I did try to be brave, but I lost my nerve when the family disappeared around the corner. I knew if I could just get that curtain out of the way, I could see them better when they returned. I did just that. The I fell asleep.
When they finally returned the Mrs. said, “See how good he’s been. Jacques has learned to be a good traveler at last.” Then she gasped. “Oh, no. Just look at those curtains.” I couldn’t believe it either, but there was one long rip and several little ones. All I wanted to do was make a tiny hole so I could see better. This time they spanked me with the El Paso Times. Master and the children went for a swim in the pool, but dear mistress stayed behind and sewed up the curtains. I thought she did a lovely job.
We boarded the jet the next day for Los Angeles. It was good to be on a large plane again. In Los Angeles we stood in line for the Disneyland bus that leaves the airport regularly with visitors. When it was my turn to board I was turned away with, “Sorry, no dogs allowed.” Master and Mrs. stopped speaking to each other. We boarded a taxi. “Seventeen dollars versus three dollars is no laughing matter,” he said, and then they both looked at me. Who asked to be brought on this ruddy trip anyhow? I wished I were back in Colombia anyway. No one worried about animals there. If you wanted to carry a chicken or a goat on a bus, no one said a word about it.
As we approached Disneyland, my master sneered, “And what if they don’t take dogs at the Disneyland Hotel?” He then answered his own question with, “You will go back to the airport with Jacques and fly to my mother’s home in Chico tonight.” “Don’t be silly,” she snapped back, “Walt Disney loves animals.”
I jumped out of the taxi in happy anticipation hoping to meet this wonderful man. Little did I know of the ordeal that lay ahead. A man drove up in an automatic cart for the suitcases. There were three rows of seats to ride on, so I joined the children. We waited for Master to check in, then as he approached us with the porter, the driver of the automatic cart and said to him, “You can take him to your room, and I’ll pick him up at 5:00 p.m. when I get off work.” Little did I know he meant me until Master said, “So Walt Disney loves animals! You’re just lucky this man loves animals and felt sorry for you AND needs the $25 I’m going to pay him, or you would be on your way back to the airport at this moment!” She just rubbed my head and ignored him. It seemed that they had first called the local kennels who refused to release pets before 9:00 a.m. In other words, the problem was that my family had a plane to catch two days hence at 7:00 a.m. which meant leaving the motel at 5:30 a.m. So, the kennel was out.
When he came for me, I heard him assure the family that he had a cyclone fence around his backyard and not to worry at all. He said that I would be safe, and there was no way that I could escape. Ah hah!
His was a lovely family with three children. They fed me and gave me lots of attention. Then I had a good night’s rest on their family room carpet. By morning, however, I was ready to return to my own family. As you must have suspected by now, I really hated being separated from them. In retrospect, I realize that it was an ungrateful act, but when the man turned me loose in his backyard to do my morning duties, I knew this was probably my only chance to escape and try to find my family again. I dug furiously at the gate and was soon under and free! I knew the general direction we had come from and was pretty sure I could find my way back. Los Angeles is large and has some very busy streets. I had to cross a freeway and I guess it was a miracle that I wasn’t hit by some careless driver. I had just about lost hope of finding my way back when I spotted a girl on a bicycle who seemed to know where she was going, so I decided to follow her. Sure enough, after a while I could see the entrance to Disneyland ahead. I later learned that I had walked two miles. I was hot and tired and when the girl stopped at a service station, I begged for a drink of water. It had been a long hot trip. I knew the motel must be somewhere nearby, but I didn’t really know which way to turn. I was thankful when the nice girl called me then and petted me. I was sure she would help me find my family. The she told the attendant that I had followed her there. “What am I going to do with this poodle? I have to go to work at Disneyland. He must be lost,” she said.
“Why not take him to the Disneyland pound. He must have tried to follow his family here,” the man replied. Little did he know!
The pound is a place where Disneyland visitors can check their pets while they spend the day seeing the sights. The one in charge of it said he would keep me until they closed, and that if no one claimed me, I would have to go to the city pound. That didn’t sound so good, but I was so exhausted from the long trek across town, that I went right to sleep. I was sure the family would find me and bail me out.
Little did I know that while I slept, they were walking the streets of Los Angeles two miles away looking for a black poodle with a red collar. I have heard the story so many times that I know it by heart. The man who had taken me in was most upset to find that I had dug under his gate. He called up my family to tell them the bad news. They immediately took a cab to his address, that is, all but my mistress who had to stay with the two-year-old. Apparently, on Master’s way out, he took time to say to the Mrs. that the whole Disneyland trip, which had already cost a fortune, would be ruined all because she hadn’t listened to him and put the darn dog in the kennel in Champaign, Illinois. She retorted that I would have died of loneliness if I had to spend two months locked up I a kennel. He then wondered aloud why he had ever agreed to bring me back from Colombia in the first place. If only he knew how many times, I had asked myself the same question. He added then that if he ever agreed to let her get another pet; it would be a sloth. The children told me all of this. Now, if you have never seen a sloth, you can’t appreciate his threat. We had a sloth for a temporary boarder once. It never makes a sound or has a thought. It is very slow witted. It has a head like a coconut shell, including its blank expression, and it hangs upside down all its life in more or less the same tree. It moves around so little that algae collect on its hair. You see, I know this because my master brought one home once, from his field station in the jungle in Colombia. They kept it in the patio for ten days. Rather, she kept it while he went off on a trip. Boy, was she upset. She had to drive ten miles to the mountains every other day to collect cecropia leaves for it to eat. When Master finally came home, she almost didn’t forgive him, and he had to take it back to the rain forest. But the children enjoyed having it around. But still, I don’t believe she would ever agree to having a sloth around again.
Anyway, when the family didn’t find me and were about to give up, Master said that at least I would be in poodle heaven in that neighborhood. He said that he had never seen so many black poodles with red collars that didn’t turn out to be me. At noon he and the children drug their weary feet back to the man’s house. They had gone to every house within ten square blocks. Their hearts were heavy for they thought I was lost to them forever. The man rushed out when he saw them and said, “You’re harder to find than your dog.” And he told them that he had called up the local kennels and dog pounds to see if I had been found, and of all places, he found me at the Disneyland pound. They couldn’t believe it!
When they claimed me, you can imagine our mutual happiness. But, did they learn their lesson? No, they bought a heavy chain for the man to chain me up with and gave him an extra fifteen dollars, plus a written release in case I escaped again. Though I was in the shadow of Disneyland, I never got to see it. The family saw what they could but had to give up early for they were so tired after looking for me all that time. We left Disneyland at 5:30 a.m. as scheduled. Master paid the man I stayed with an extra ten dollars to take us to the airport, cheaper than the taxi, and since he was a schoolteacher in the winter, he appreciated earning the money.
The trip to San Francisco was quick and there I was, loaded onto one of those little bouncy planes again. They put me in the compartment just in front of the passengers again, this time separated by a curtain. It just tore me up to smell and hear my family who were only a few feet away and not able to touch or lick them. My cage was made of lightweight wood, and the slats were quite thin. In my frustration, I started chewing on the slats. Before I knew what had happened, I had chewed all the way through one. That gave me an idea. I could chew up another one and another one and get out. It didn’t take long for me to finish the job. Now, only the webbing that held the luggage on the rack was between me and freedom. I got my head through and gasped. I finally emitted a yelp. Instantly the children were gathered around me. “Mommy, he’s out! He’s going to hang himself!” They freed my neck, but I kept trying to get to them. The stewardess who had obviously never had to make a quick decision before kept saying, “I’m sorry, but it is against the rules to take a dog out of its cage. You cannot take him to your seat.” My mistress insisted that there was no choice, and after promising that I wouldn’t make a sound and that she would keep me on the floor out of sight, she gave in. I noticed that my master was nowhere to be seen, probably in the men’s room!
It wasn’t long before we landed in Chico, where Granny and Popo lived. Their house had a dog smell about it, so I relaxed. Sure enough, I soon found a Labrador Retriever living there named Mickey. She had an outdoor doghouse but was also allowed inside quite often. I had to stay in the garage if everyone was out. Granny had heard the story of the African Violets. This proves that it is hard to live down a bad reputation. The Texas grandmother must have written her. Popo was nice but kept comparing me to his dog who obeyed his every command. I thought she had a sad face and few thoughts of her own. She was really under the man’s power.
Before long, it was time to return to Illinois. Popo lined the cage with heavy mesh wire called hardware cloth and replaced the broken slates with two new ones. I wished I never had to enter the cage again, but airlines have rules and there was no choice but to go. Having chewed my way out once, I was sure I could do it again. I had tasted the luxury of the passenger section and wanted to go that way instead of baggage class. I worked on the cage all the way from San Francisco to Chicago. There we had to change planes again, and I was left in the baggage room at O’Hare. I finally was able to tear the wire loose, but then I was in a real mess. I got so tangled that I could do nothing but yelp in pain. That brought someone fast. The loudspeaker blared through the terminal, “Calling Dr. R. Kokernot. Please report to the baggage room at once!” He arrived promptly, having left the barber shop with a half-completed haircut. When he saw me, he just gritted his teeth and got me loose, swearing under his breath. He never used to swear that way. After he finally extricated me, the cage was such a mess that he told the baggage men to throw it away and he rented a neat little cage for fifteen dollars. Well that was the last flight anyway. A mere hour and we would be in Champaign, at last. We taxied out onto the runway and waited and waited and waited. I guess Ozark Airlines didn’t have much prestige, for it had to wait for about six jets to go out ahead of it. I was so hot and tired, the only way I could express my displeasure was to bark. “Shut that damn dog up!” shouted the captain. Something was thrown over the cage which frightened me, only making me bark more than ever. The co-pilot swatted the cage with the Chicago Daily News. I barked louder. After several terrible swats, the pilot announced over the loudspeaker that he was sorry for the delay, sorry for the heat which was due to a failure in the air conditioning system, and sorry about the dog. He said he would have returned to the terminal to discharge the animal, but as there were three jets lined up behind us, it was impossible to do so. Huh! An idle threat. He wouldn’t have dared. He said we would be arriving in Champaign in fifty minutes where the dog would be discharged. Naturally, that was my destination. What nerve. My fare had been paid just like everybody else’s. I would show him who he was insulting. I never stopped barking the whole way. The Chicago Daily News was torn to shreds, so they used The Sun the rest of the way. If people only knew what the whine of a child does to a dog’s ears.
Everyone’s nerves were frayed, none worse than mine. Finally, my mistress said to the stewardess that if the dog was bothering the pilot, she would be glad to take me back to her seat. She should never have said that. The stewardess snapped, “So, you are the owner. The pilot told me to tell you that if you ever attempt to bring that animal on this airline again, they will refuse to take him. We are under no obligation to carry animals.” We landed about that time, luckily.
From that moment to this, my life has been fairly tranquil. Oh, I’ve had other adventures of course, but I will skim over them lightly. We lived in a brand-new house for six months, owned by the man who built our new house. We paid a fortune for the privilege and had to be so careful. Once, when Mrs. went to town, she shut me in the garage telling me she would be gone for an hour. She was afraid I would scratch the doors of the new house if she left me inside. But she forgot it was garbage day and when the men opened the garage door to get the garbage, I dashed out. I tried to follow the scent, but it was hopeless. I found myself on the highway, not far from our house. I saw a green truck stopping. It was a telephone man. He took me to his office but left me in his car. After several hours, her came my mistress to claim me. It seems when she discovered I was missing, she called the local radio stations, the pound, and put ads in both newspapers, but before the alert was broadcast or read about it, one of his fellow workers saw me and said he had seen that dog when he installed a phone in a house near where I had been rescued. He looked up his records to get our telephone number and that’s how they found that was the missing dog. Wasn’t I lucky? And, those nice men refused a reward.
I still hadn’t learned my lesson and tried to follow the car again one day, a month later, even though the two older children were outside playing. About the time I made it to the highway, a university football game ended, and the traffic got me so confused, I couldn’t find my way back home. A car stopped and picked me up and drove me forty miles. They made such a fuss over me. The next day, when the Champaign newspaper came, they said something about looking in the lost and found column. They phoned my family to say I was safe. About an hour later, Master and the children arrived to claim me. He gave them a $20 reward and he actually seemed glad to see me this time. After his unpredictable behavior of the past, I didn’t know what to expect.
I have never tried to follow them again, for I know they will always come back. We are at the lake now, and I wouldn’t leave it for anything. Do you remember my mentioning the little silver poodle earlier in my story? Her name is Penny, and she is from a very good family, blue blood you know, AKC and all that. Her mistress even has a book with pictures of her ancestors, her ribbons, etc. Penny was so happy to see me when we moved to the lake. I think my accent intrigued her, as well as my travel stories. We formed a close friendship, but the affair wasn’t my idea. It was she who came to me. I wish you could have seen the puppies. All five were black when they were born, but the two females soon turned silver. Penny’s owner was pretty upset when she first found out, especially when she learned that I had no pedigree. Later, she admitted that it was the best litter Penny had ever had. You see, it goes to prove that papers aren’t so important. And, now my mistress is a grandmother, and we have one of the females with us, a silver miniature named Mimi who looks just like her mother. I’ve very proud of her.
My love for Penny nearly cost me my life. Having been born in the tropics, I didn’t know the perils of ice. The lake was frozen and seemed hard enough to me. I saw a big dog named Herman on Penny’s lawn and made a dash across the ice to send him on his way. Suddenly, the ice gave way about twenty yards from shore. I swam as hard as I could but was about to go under when someone jumped in and saved me. That brave girl suffered from shock and missed several days of school because of that heroic deed. Everyone was mad at me for causing her to risk her life, but the mothers all said it was a good object lesson for the children to learn about the danger of thin ice.
This is my eighth winter in the States. I have Mimi as a companion now and never feel lonely, even when the family goes out. I am happy, well-adjusted dog despite the harrowing adventures of my youth. I am the best travelled dog I know, and my friends respect me for this, as I always have a story to tell. Often, my master looks at me and says, “That dog is almost human.” Of course, I am. That’s what I kept trying to tell everybody. A dog has feelings just like a human.
I’d better end the story now. I hear my mistress getting out the can opener. Man, I’m starved. In my old age, food has become very important to my happiness. And you know what? They give me hamburger on Sundays. It’s great to be loved.
The End.
