Pooh vs. Jack

Once I was able to keep Jack, there really wasn't much training to do. Of course there were some house rules he needed to familiarize himself with: Not jumping on the couch unless invited, not begging for food, and so on. He never got into to any trouble with my family because he was a sweet, respectful dog with a quiet disposition. He behaved pretty well the first few weeks back. Instead of having to take him out on a set schedule, Jack would tell me when he wanted to go outside by placing his head on my lap, or if I was laying down, he would sit on my back. Also, when he did go out to relieve himself, he would go to the back yard and come back to the house on his own. He completed this, and many other tasks wonderfully. The point is that Jack earned the status "good dog".

Before I tell you what happend between Jack and Pooh, let me tell you how Winnie the Pooh and I crossed paths. My sister is about twenty-nine now, and when she was little she had received this Winnie the Pooh and then later gave it to me, so making Winnie the Pooh twenty-nine as well. We were inseparable, I took my friend everywhere, from Lake Tahoe all the way to Thailand. I never left home without him. When I had bad days, he was there for me to cry on. As I got older, Pooh grew older as well as dirtier and saggier. I still had a special place in my heart for him. When Jack came along the situation changed. Jack soon became another good friend, like Winnie the Pooh.

Jack was never allowed to sleep on the bed. He had his own bed on the ground. But one night I had decided to let him sleep on my bed considering he had a good record with my parents and myself. The night had went well, no barking or crying. My alarm went off, and when I went reaching for it I felt soft, fluffy pieces on my bed. I opened my eyes and it had rained yellow all over my bed. Jack had supposedly mistaken Pooh for a chew toy. I was infuriated and upset. I yelled at Jack and demanded he leave my room. He looked at me with sad eyes and displayed his belly to me as a sign of submission. The whole day he didn't returned to my room; he realized he had done something terribly wrong. But throughout the day, I had come to a realization as well, that I was wrong to have yelled at Jack and although he had chewed up Pooh, he was still just a dog. He had no idea how much Winnie the Pooh meant to me. I also thought that there was no reason to be upset over material things, that I had Jack, a new blessing in my life and a best friend for years to come.