Guest Author - Mary Ellen Sweeney

Sam is over from Belfast for a week, and his brother, Alastair, my husband’s elder son, brought him around for a visit. Sam was quite taken with our Jack Russell, who threw herself on her back and wiggled, begging for belly pats. She was quite beside herself with doggie joy, sampling first one forbidden lap and then another. Jack Russell terriers are dogs of extremes: extreme adoration, extreme joy...extreme ratters.

Sam told us about a friend in Belfast who had just gotten a Jack Russell pup. “There’s a story about this pup’s dad.” he said. “The dog lives with a family on a cliff’s edge on the Donegal coast. The children were out in the yard playing ball with the dog. The ball bounced over the fence and the dog flew out after the ball and away he went, off the cliff into the water.”

The dog was gone. There was no sight of him. The children were devastated. Everyone who knew the dog was sad to see him gone.

Three days later, some fishermen saw a flock of gulls circling and swooping down on a gray rock jutting out of the water, a fair distance from the land. Curious, the fishermen pulled in closer to have a look. There was the dog, jumping up and down on the rock, barking and snapping at the gulls.

A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do.