When I look at this photo, at this time, now April, 2020, I
remember back to a day in April, 1971 some 49 years ago, 7 jubilee cycles as
outlined in the Torah, in fact, the silver jubilee, to the day I woke up, like
any other day, and later that day brought one fine dog home, who in short order
became a deeply loved member of the family.
He fit right in.
How did this happen?
I believe it was a Saturday afternoon, and in my profound isolation, my
teenage angst and loneliness, I wandered off, taking a long walk as I was apt
to do. This day, I sat on the high
school lawn. I was talking with one or
two people, not sure who, and I had not been there long when enter Heidi Jurka,
that’s Jurka as with a Y, spelled Jurka, pronounced Yurka. Heidi floated in like some angel of G-d, an
instrument of change, of cause and effect, to transform one thing into another. I can’t say I knew Heidi well, but I knew her
well enough to know that she was easy going, self-confident, with a flashing, knowing
smile. She had empathy and situational
awareness. Heidi knew how to read any
interaction and rightly assess whether it was for good, or not. These are excellent skills for a life of
good, or for danger avoidance and survival.
Heidi had her head together. Heidi
also had a car.
We spoke briefly, and somehow it came up that I was wanting
to get a dog. Our family had always had
a dog, and now she was passed away. Our
bird died, our dog died, my sister, Aileen, got married and moved away, my
brother had graduated college and was long gone. My dad always worked long hours. The house was quiet. I had always spent a lot of time alone, and I
was okay with that, but I figured having a dog to hang with would be a good
thing. My parents had said no to this
request. With that, Heidi jumped up and
announced, “lets’ go get one”. It was
like a Shakespearean rallying cry, as in some way the answer to this burst of exuberance
and energy had to be “yes” and it was.
Just like that we were off in her car.
I had no idea where we were going.
After a bit, I asked her and Heidi said we should go to Ossining, to the
pet store in Arcadia Shopping Center.
Sounded like a good plan.
As I recall, we hardly spoke on the way. A couple of times I glanced over at Heidi and
she looked calm, with a hint of a smile.
We arrived at the pet store, and everything moved fast from
there. In my experience, often when you
are trying to get something done, either things fall in to place, one thing
flows into another, or, every step of the way is a challenge, and requires
thought and effort. This time it was
like the former. We entered, were greeted,
said we wanted to get a dog. They
indicated something like we had come to the right place. We wandered over, saw two or three dog crates
and there was this little guy, scruffy with a beard, mostly black with white
markings and a long tail. He saw us and seemed
to be listening moving his eyes only, following the conversation. The crate was unlocked and he emerged looking
quietly happy, hoping not to blow this chance.
He interacted beautifully. The
pet shop owner praised him. Okay, how
much to bring him home? $15. Somehow, I had a little money on me. I may well have gotten a few dollars from Heidi. It could be that I owe her money now. I asked what kind of dog this was, and with a
smile, the staff told me it was an “Ossining Retriever”. Like that we were off, heading back to my
house.
From there, things unfolded in an unusual fashion. It was very unusual, but my mother was
away. I think she had been visiting
relatives out of state. My dad was at
work. Most unusual, just as we got home,
my brother showed up unannounced, not sure why, but he was there, a big dog
lover. Heidi smiled and quickly left,
like an angel whose mission was complete.
The dog was quite happy to run around the yard. His hind quarter was a little stiff and misshapen, even at the time I figured it was from laying around too much in the
clink, as my mother called it. In the
days and weeks ahead that was quickly corrected, and he became healthy and
robust. Bruce, my brother asked what his
name would be. The name “Henry” popped
into my head, and we both liked that. We
called to him, and he seemed to get the name fast. He always, or nearly always, came when called. He wanted to be good.
Somehow, not sure how, but either we had some dog biscuits
on hand, or my brother had some dog food with him, but all needs were met,
quickly and seamlessly. My dad arrived home
from work and was very surprised to see Henry.
At first, he was a little put off, but quickly seemed cautiously okay
with this. Maybe he wanted a dog
too. He did not want the dog on the
furniture. I was good with that, and he
never even tried. In short, Henry was
good as gold. He had a happy go lucky temperament,
smart, fun loving, confident. He was
vocal, and actually seemed to talk. People
used to ask, “did he really just say that?”
He smiled, yes, he smiled.
Rest in peace dear friend.
