A Dog Named Jeff

A Dog Named Jeff
By Wayne H. McDowell

Like a lot of the young men of my generation, I spent time in the Army
and slightly less than a year of that time was spent in the Vietnam War.
For part of that period I was stationed a small “firecamp,” roughly 200
of us or so, and there was also a “camp mutt” called Jeff. Jeff was of
indeterminate breed, a medium sized dog, about 30 to 40 pounds or so. He
was a black and white dog that always put me in mind of a miniature Border
Collie, but with floppy hound dog ears. He had a single toy, a tennis ball,
the old off-white kind. When he wanted to play fetch, he would carry the
ball around until he found his chosen playmate, then drop the ball at the
person’s feet and bark until these slow-witted humans got the idea to throw
it for him.

Jeff was sort of a camp mascot for us. It was good luck to give Jeff a
quick pet before heading out on a patrol, and he seemed to understand that,
and to understand what was going on around him. If things went badly “out
there” (as they sometimes did,) he would meet you as you came back,
running from one soldier to another as if checking, and if someone wasn’t
there, he would go up to one of his special “friends” (of which I was one)
and nudge them worriedly, as if asking “What happened out there? Where’s
________?”

… read more …

Also check out Johann’s Veteran’s Day post about Chips.

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