By Cherie L. Dreves
This is a story of hope, tragedy and how a quarter of a second can change lives.
Back in 1996, during a previous career, one of my salesmen headed out for an evening appointment. Arriving at the address, he found a suburban home in a quiet neighborhood. As he approached the front walk he noticed this little brown ball of fur laying on the porch it was chained to.
Walking by, he realized the collar on the dog was adjusted too tight. After speaking a while with his prospect, the salesman came to the realization that the little ball of fur on the porch would be leaving with him that evening.
The salesman essentially wrote the dog into the deal and took the dog as the down payment for the customer’s home improvement project. The salesman believed it would all be fine with me… as soon as I saw her the next morning.
That evening, they shared dinner, fast food hamburgers and fries that she happily gobbled.
The next morning, the salesman brought her to our office, got her right up to my office door, slipped her leash off, and let her walk into my office alone. Here was this beautiful, young chocolate lab.
The salesman followed shortly after and explained what he had done the night before. I laughed.
“I couldn’t leave her there. I rescued her for you,” he related, “She’s just too beautiful. I just couldn’t leave her there like that, she didn’t even have water to drink.”
Jesse had a delightful personality. She was very gentle and a real lover. It was head over heels at first sight for me, and I knew the same would happen at home.
At the end of the work day, Jesse and I left the office to retrieve my daughter from school. I remember she ran and squealed from the front door of the school to the car door. She was overjoyed! There was a dog in our car!
The two of them were inseparable. Jesse followed her everywhere. They read books together, did homework and chores. The community we lived at was quiet and small. Even at nine, my daughter was allowed to walk Jesse. She was very watchful and cautious when they were outside alone. Jesse was the first dog of her very own.
Thanksgiving night when we had come home from dinner, my daughter grabbed the leash and away they went out the door for the day’s last stroll. My attention was immersed in the kitchen when she came bursting back through the door. “MOM!!! MOM!!! JESSE RAN AWAY!”
Unknown to us, people began setting off fireworks in our common area. Jesse became terrified and bolted. For a nine-year-old, Jesse’s flight reaction was overpowering enough to break free. I grabbed my keys and out the door we went.
Up and down and around and around, we scoured that neighborhood. Street after street with no luck. Desperation and the determined will to see Jesse safe at home with us, kept us going. We searched for hours, by foot, by car, no luck. I was left with a fitfully sleeping nine-year-old in the back seat, and no Jesse.
I called off the search, vowing that we would get up early and start again. Hopefully, someone had grabbed her, we’d hang lost signs in the morning, and she’d be back by lunch.
That next morning, we had arrived back home from hanging flyers and searching when our phone rang. I thought to myself, oh goodness it’s worked, and someone is calling us to come pick up Jesse.
“Hi, I saw your flyer on our mailboxes.” There was a long pause, “I think I know where your Jesse is.”
The caller went on to explain that she had checked her mail before going shopping. She stopped the explanation for a moment. “I’m sorry, I think I saw her on the northbound shoulder of I-17 just above Thunderbird.”
My heart sank and I was struck dumb as I hung up the phone. I have to ask that if you ever are faced with telling a stranger this kind of news, please follow through and do it. As hard as it is, it is a kindness. It just doesn’t feel like one at the time.
We got in the car again and drove to that area. Sure enough, there Jesse lay.
At the time, we lived near 19th and Cactus, but she had travelled all the way to Thunderbird and I-17. A lot of ground to cover, only to meet her senseless demise. To this day, I don’t know how we didn’t find her.
Anyway, I told y’all that this was a story of hope, of tragedy, and how a quarter of a second can change lives.
Jesse had found her loving, comfortable, forever home when the salesman rescued her for me. The tragedy was that she perished way before her time, without those who loved her near. Now I want to talk about that quarter of a second.
Jesse was killed by fireworks on Thanksgiving night, of all times. Not usually an effusive time with grandpa’s old revolver or a fistful of fireworks.
Each year many dogs are frightened, freak out, bolt and are lost due to municipal fireworks as well as the kinds you buy in the store. Most dog owners, aware of Fourth of July issues, take precautions.
Jesse lost her bright future, her family and ultimately her life, because of a twelve-cent firecracker set off in a parking lot by an unthinking person.
If you use fireworks, please make sure people aren’t out walking their dogs, and dogs are not loose in the area. Owners, stay alert to protect your dog.
Please secure your dogs before, during and after municipal fireworks shows. If you hear people setting off fireworks in your neighborhood, remember to secure your dog. Don’t leave it to chance.
