A sign for Jake

Mara stood at the kitchen sink, weeping. They had been gone several weeks. It was to be a time of celebration and joy. Instead, it was a time of weeping, of incredible loss. Her son Mark stood before the altar smiling and waiting for his bride. At his feet set Jake his dog since childhood. They had searched the internet for dog tuxes. They found one on Amazon. Jake, a rumpuses lab, uncomfortable yet wagging his tail.

She remembered the night she brought him home. The pup wandered around the school where she taught social studies. She brought him home in a box, just a small thing, not even house trained. Mark came home from football practice. He stopped in the kitchen. Relaxing after grading papers from her class, she heard him speaking.

“Well, hello there. Who are you, and where did you come from?” He said, holding up the small dog.

“He was wandering around the school. I thought we could give him a home for a little while.” His mother said, standing at the door to the kitchen. “At least until we find him a home.”

“Sure, that would be great.” He said, putting the dog back in the box. As they ate dinner, they shared with him some small pieces of roast beef. In bed, Mara heard the pup whining. She was about to get up when he seemed to settle down.

The next morning, she entered the kitchen and couldn’t find the small dog. The cardboard box was empty. She felt of the blanket she put in the bottom to keep him warm. Cold. She was about to get Mark up to help search for him when he came into the kitchen carrying the pup as he would a baby with a soggy diaper.

“He got lonely during the night. I took him to bed and woke up in a puddle of pee.” He turned the dog around. “No more sleeping with me until you’re potty trained.” The pup seemed to grin. That night, they moved the box into Mark’s bedroom. Soon, they became inseparable. To see Mark was to see the dog. He slept by the bed until he was house trained. After that, they allowed him on the bed. She couldn’t remember when they started calling him Jake.

They only took him to football practice once. When a team member tackled Mark, Jake ran onto the field. He didn’t hurt the other boy but held him at bay, barking. After that, they left the almost grown dog at home.

Jake would wait on the front lawn for Mark to come home. High school first, college, second. Six weeks after Mark started dating Laura, he came home with stars in his eyes. Mara, he told first and Jake second. That night, he had asked her to be his wife. She said yes. To make Jake a part of the ceremony was not a question. However, what role he could play in this important part of Mark’s life. One night, three weeks before the wedding, he said, “I now know who will be my best man.”
“Who?” she said, thinking of all of Mark’s friends

“You’re looking at him.” Mark said. Jake looked at Mara, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“Are you sure? After all, he is a dog,” Mara said skeptically.
Mark said patting the dog. “Over the years, he’s been my friend. I couldn’t exclude him from something this important.”

And so, they began training him. Their pastor laughed when Mark told him. “It will be the best wedding of the year.” Pastor Harris said, grinning.

Mark woke up early on his wedding day. Mara come into the kitchen to find Mark brushing Jake. The dog’s coat glistened in the early June sun. Mark jigged a rounded all day. He lay out his clothes. Washed and vacuumed the car. Packed and repacked his suitcase. He gave Jake a bath. Something Jake didn’t enjoy but tolerated. At four, they left for the church.

Mark stood on the platform waiting for his bride. As Laura came down the aisle on the arm of her father, Jake bolted. The congregation gasp as he charged down the aisle. Meeting Laura and her father, the dog turned and walked stately down the aisle beside them. At the altar, he mounted the steps and set down beside Mark. After the vows, Jake walked down the aisle behind Mark and Laura. At the reception, he came over and lay down beside Mara. All the children and half the adults wanted to pet him. He waved his tail, inviting all. At 7PM, the newlyweds left the church.

At 8, Jake suddenly jumped up and began howling. Mara followed him from room to room. Finally, she opened the door to Mark’s bedroom. The dog leaped on the bed and then, spreading all four feet; he lifted his head and gave one last mournful howl. Sadly, he lay down on the bed. She laughed. “You act like you lost your best friend.”
Little did she know he had. Mara wore out prepared for bed. It had been a long day. She had just turned out the light in the living room when there was a knock at the front door. She looked through the glass to see her pastor standing on her front porch. Behind him, setting in the driveway, was a police car. Then she knew. She knew before she opened the door. There were tears in his eyes. A sad expression on his face.

“No oh please God, no?” she cried, holding onto the door for support. His tears spilling over, he said. “I’m so sorry Mara. So very sorry.” She collapsed. Helping her up, Pastor Harris held her as she wept. He helped her to the couch. Then the dog was there. Pushing his nose into Mara’s lap.

“They…they were kill…killed on I65. A …man drunk lost control of his car. He came over the crossover and…hit them head on. All…three died in the crash.” The dog whined and put his paw on her knee. The nightmare started that night. Now, as she stood at the kitchen window, she watched the dog standing with his front paws on the 2by 4 of the picket fence. Jake missed him as much as she did. This was to be a merry time. Jake was going to live with Mark and Laura across town.

In the last few weeks, Jake had almost stopped eating. His weight was about half what it was. At this rate, she would bury the dog before too long.

She needed to do something. But what? Then she remembered a segment she saw on TV. On the road with Steve Hartman. A lonely dog wanted people to notice him. But no one did until his owners fashioned a sign. That night, she made a sign for Jake. It said:
Hi, My name is Jake

I was the best man(dog) at my owner’s wedding

I was to live with him and his bride.

I was eagerly waiting for their return from the honeymoon.

They were killed in a crash on I65.

I am so lonely. I have almost quit eating. I miss him so much.

You can help. Just a pat. (I like to have my ears rubbed).

A word or anything to help me through the day.

At the local print shop, they turned her writing in to beautiful print with a big photo of Jake at the top. They then laminated it. With thumb tacks, she posted the signs on the fence. At first, people didn’t stop. Then a little boy about 10 stopped and saw the sign. He reached up and rubbed Jake’s ears. The dog wagged his tail and rewarded the little boy with a swipe of his wet tongue. The next morning, there were 10 children lined up. Jake ambled into the kitchen, sniffed at his food, went over by the dishwasher and lay down. Tears came to Mara’s eyes. She was watching Mark’s dog die. Suddenly, Jake’s ears perked up. He ran to the door, wanting out. Sorrowfully, Mara opened the door. She had lost her only son and now his dog was going to die. Then she saw the children. Both boys and girls. They clapped and cheered as Jake charged the fence. He leaped up and fairly danced as the children gave him pats hugs and rubbed his ears. When they were gone, after waving at him, he came back into the kitchen and ate his breakfast.

That afternoon, more children than adults stopped at the fence. Jake fairly danced his mouth open in a big, toothy grin. Soon, the newspaper ran a section on Jake. Then the TV station became involved. Mara did an interview on her front lawn with Jake, greeting everyone who came by. The camera focused on Jake’s happy, smiling face.

That night Jake set with Mara on the couch as they watched a segment called: A Sign for Jake.