Priceless Memories - Bob Barker [58]
Finally, a few days later he said, “The time has come, you’re going to have to—”
I cut him off: “All right, bring Jessie to my house.”
That night he showed up with Jessie, and she immediately checked out the yard, looked the house over, and made herself at home. Right from the beginning, she won the hearts of all my friends and visitors. She is very friendly with people, but other dogs were a different story. She was once more aggressive with other dogs than any dog I had ever had. The first time we took a walk she saw a dog half a block away and barked wildly. When she actually got near another dog, she reared on her hind feet like a stallion, pulling against the leash and pawing the air. It shocked me how really aggressive she was. The chow breed is very possessive, very protective. I suspect she thought these other dogs were going to attack me. She seemed to be trying to protect me. She had been trained to sit, and I took advantage of that. When another dog approached, I told her to sit and then forcibly restrained her. When the other dog went on its way, I said, “Good girl,” and gave her a cookie. In a short time, Jessie was so much improved that I had to switch from cookies to tiny treats. Jessie was losing her girlish figure.
Jessie has trained me very well. Now I take a pocket full of treats with me on our walk. When we meet a dog and she behaves, she gets a treat. Occasionally, when she doesn’t behave herself, she’ll look up for the treat and I’ll say, “No.” She’s bright enough to figure this all out.
Another story involving Jessie began like a scene out of a Lassie movie. I let Jessie out one morning and sat down to eat breakfast. In a matter of moments, Jessie burst back into the breakfast room. The expression on her face plainly said: “I have seen something most unusual. Please follow me and see for yourself.”
I followed her out into the yard, but I was not very surprised to find two mallards, a male and a female, swimming slowly about in our pool. In past years, when they were migrating, ducks had landed in our pool to rest. I explained this to Jessie and assured her that the ducks would leave soon. I was wrong. The ducks stayed, built a nest out of the way behind the pool, and the mother duck laid twelve eggs—that’s right: an even dozen. For the next three months, Mercedes and I were busy, busy, busy.
I had a temporary fence installed to protect the mother duck and her babies from Jessie. The father duck had already taken a few bows and split. He did return three or four times during the three months, but apparently he was satisfied with what Mercedes and I were doing because he never hung around long.
Mercedes and I took a crash course in duck care and feeding. My pool man quit. I hired another pool man, and he quit, too. I hired a third pool man and he stuck it out. He’ll be my pool man forever. Mornings and late afternoons, Mercedes laid out a veritable buffet for the duck family: corn mash, bread, chopped lettuce, the works.
I’ll never forget the day Mercedes shouted, “Mr. Barker, Mr. Barker, come quick.” There were all twelve baby ducks lined up on the edge of the pool. The mother duck was in the pool and you just knew she was quacking, “Come on down! The water’s fine!” Gradually, one or two at a time, the babies jumped in and swam for the first time. It was an exhilarating moment for the duck family, for Mercedes, and certainly for me. I was also happy to see that the three little ramps we had installed on the edge of the pool allowed the ducklings to waddle safely up out of the pool and back into the nest.
That first swimming lesson was matched only