Jack

 

Working Class Dog

   Jack. Part Collie and part Golden Retriever. 75 lbs and three layers of fur. He’s got a Golden Retriever’s face, black eyebrows and a black mouth that provides a constant canine smile. The way his eyebrows move when I talk to him I’d swear he understands English. He stands by me no matter what the circumstances. He guards me as if I were royalty. We give tours on horseback at a dude ranch in Big Sky, Montana, just outside the west boundary of Yellowstone National Park. Only once, on one of our two hour rides, has Jack gone missing.

   One morning, I am taking a Mom and her two young children on a ride. The trip starts calm enough, all of us in a column heading out towards the river. I am in front with the youngest directly behind me, then the next oldest, then Mom bringing up the rear. Jack runs excitedly ahead of the group to meet us at the river before crossing. Twenty minutes into the ride, as we gradually start to make our climb into the foothills, Jack splits from us and runs into the woods. I don’t see if he is chasing something or if he is just taking a shortcut, but this is pretty normal so I am not concerned at this point. Sometimes Jack would run ahead and flush a flock of birds out of a spot along the side of the trail so the horses wouldn’t get suddenly spooked. He is just doing his job. So we continue to make our way, and after about five minutes, still no Jack in sight. We reach the spot where I always stop and give guests time to rest and take pictures for a few minutes. While the horses rest after the steepest incline of our trip, I call out and give a couple whistles to Jack - no response. Realizing it’s been at least ten minutes since I’ve heard any sounds from Jack, or anything he might be chasing, I’m getting concerned.

   I can’t let on to the group that I’m worried because they need to concentrate on controlling their horses. If horses sense someone is nervous, then they get nervous. Going back right away to look for Jack is out of the question. We are halfway through a two hour ride, and if I’m not back within ten minutes of when I am supposed to be back, people will start looking for us. Who knows how long it would take to find him anyway? He wouldn’t be sitting there on the side of the trail. I can’t take Mom and her two kids off trail on a wild goose chase into the backcountry. I definitely can’t leave inexperienced riders alone while I go and look for the dog. The only responsible choice is to carry on. Twenty uncomfortable minutes later, I see that the family is getting sore from riding, so I can’t ride any faster. Even if I could get everyone’s horse to a trot, they would probably just bounce out of their saddles. Nope, I need to stick to the schedule and continue to meander down the trail at this agonizingly slow pace. What the hell had happened to Jack? We are coming up on the last thirty minutes of the ride when I finally see what has happened. There is Jack sitting by the side of the trail with a coyote. Both of them panting with their tongues stretched halfway to the ground, Jack’s face asking me, “Where have you guys been?”