INTRODUCING JACK

 

Extract from the Log of ‘Lady H’ - Karpathos - 15th June 2010

 Karpathos is the first large island you come to on the south westerly voyage from Rhodes to Crete. It is a Greek island that has been so far by passed by the tourists, although the optimistic building of high-rise apartments implies that such oversight by tourists will be short lived and that the Karpathans, too, will get on the foreign currency gravy train. The main town is Pighadi, a nothing special place, more large village than small town that overlooks a notoriously uncomfortable harbour when the meltemi blows. I had on board a man who wanted to extend his sailing experience but who had quickly found he did not feel comfortable out of sight of land. NOT a prerequisite that makes a good sailor. He was okay company but I craved conversation.

It was more from relief from monosyllabic conversations that made me go exploring the limited shops for supplies, and it was on the way back that I first set eyes on Jack, although that wasn't his name at the time. He was hairy, black, disheveled with a long, curly matted coat and extremely nondescript. His black eyes were hidden by the bushy hair around his face, and he was tied to a post on the quayside. I stopped to say hello, and his hang-dog expression and half hearted movement of his tail implied a total lack of interest.

 "Is he yours?" I heard a voice ask, and I looked up to see a woman coming towards me.

 "Er. No. I was just saying hello."

 "It is just that he was trying to swim after our dinghy. We are anchored out in the bay." She nodded towards a motor yacht in the bay. "We were afraid he might drown. Look. Would you give us half an hour and then let him go. I don't seem to be able to find anyone who claims him."

Half an hour later I returned to the dog, undid his makeshift lead and took him back to the boat. He could barely walk, his back end threatening to try and overtake his front as he staggered the few yards to my boat. I lifted him on board where he sat, forlorn, graciously accepting water but turning his nose up at a proffered biscuit.

That evening while he slept and twitched to some canine dream at the foot of my bed something made me write in my log.

 'My past is irrelevant to this story. What is our past? Just a jumble of experiences and memories, some bitter, some sweet. Yet, for better or worse, they make us what we are today, and today I am desperate. I am tired, weak, dehydrated and oh so scared of dying before I fulfill my allotted task or span. How I came to be here I do not know. But here I am, and in desperation I swam after a departing dinghy bound for a 'mother ship' and, to me possible freedom. But they turned me away, returning to land, where one of the two-legs tied me to a post and sought out my owner. Owner? I am one of God's creatures. Are we not all equal in the eye's of our maker, for why would he make some more equal than others? Do I need  an 'owner'? No! I need the care and sharing of a fellow creature as we all do. Are we not all fellow creatures in the eyes of God? And then along came a two-legs, burdened down with shopping, for they do not have the ability to forage as we. They need to barter and purchase for what is their equally God given right, of food and shelter and comfort.

I remember he had callused hands yet a gentle voice as he stooped to say hello and to pet me. Lord, I was a mess, as only weeks of living rough can do to a creature, yet his voice was tender as if.....? As if he could see what I could be,  -  a true and loving companion. Or perhaps, in his dim and distant past, he had once been what I was now, desperate for love and for a new life.  For what are we? Fellow creatures of God in search of equality from a true friend, a companion.  -  Then he left me.            

But he returned soon after and took me to his vessel, a modest, aged craft, named, it transpires, after a former lover. And there he showed me kindness, for which I was truly thankful, although a decent hunk of meat would have been better than the paltry biscuit he first offered me.'

As I put down my pen and turned off the cabin light, I swear I heard him say, “I like you. Can I stay and be your friend?”  And that is how Jack became a part of me and my life, although he wasn't Jack then. He was simply some dehydrated and starving stray dog that I could not turn away, for I, too, believe we are all equal.