Coyote Ugly. The dancers danced around like there was no tomorrow.

He sat.

At the end of the bar.

Actually. He lied down now.

When he first arrived. Years before. He ruled the place.

We was the welcome wagon, convenience store greeter of all greeters. Customers’ faces would light up as he made his way around the bar to check on the patrons who came and went.

His name was Jackal. Most who came to the watering hole simply called him “Jack”.

Oh.

The stories Jack heard. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year. He was the sounding board of all sounding boards. The soul of the place.

And. He never gave advice. He just listened. Through the years folks would come and folks would go. But Jack. He was always present.

To listen.

To watch.

To lend an ear.

To lend a paw.

Jack was adaptable. Able to adapt to the comings and goings of all the different folks who came to visit. He was able to expand into the environments and modified his behavior to the humans that came and went. Day after day. Month after month. Year after year.

Jack lended an ear and extended his paw as folks went on about what was happening in their lives. Good times. Bad times. Desperate times. Euphoric times.

Jack extended the hand and paw of belonging.

To those who came and imbibed. Some, too much. Wander off. At times. Jack would ensure they safely found their way home in this sleepy town. He was protector and watched out for everyone. At the instruction of the watering hole owners, Jack would check in on the tables and clear them, when necessary. Even clean the crumbs from the floor underneath, in preparation for the next reservation.

When it came to his own mealtime, Jack would not beg. From the tables that surrounded him. Once dinner time ended, he then would quietly go outside. Sit straight up with a proud stance of, “It is time. To feed myself”. And off he would go.

Into the woods he would go to search for and rescue his daily “bread”. He took care of his needs. His wants. He wanted to ensure he was fit and healthy to go back into the watering hole and shower grace upon his friends there with an ear and a paw.

Jack took his job very seriously.

Some days his diet would consist of deer meat, rabbits were a delicacy, on a not so good day it may merely be a rodent, or a bird, even worse a reptile, amphibian or fish. At the end of the day. Grub was grub. He would then door dash back to the watering hole to sit among the patrons. And wait. And absorb the energy of the room.

Instinctively.

On his journey back to the hole, Jack would finish his mealtime up with a nibble or two on a berry tree or a plant of leafy greens. Then head back into the watering hole. Satisfied and ready for a rest. Ready for the next human show. Ready to extend an ear and a paw.

There came a strange time in the life of the watering hole establishment. Times were tough. He listened and heard the tone in his owners’ voices.He heard their anguish.

The next thing that happened made Jack a little confused. A new show came to town and into the watering hole. Jack, although a bit confused by the goal of this new show, watched intently as the room erupted. Jack would take his place at the end of the bar and watch as a group of females hopped up into the bar.

And danced.

The watering hole erupted in shouts and cheers of joy as they persons danced away. Although Jack did not understand it. He looked around the room and watched as folks poured things into other people’s mouths and basically went into a hazed state of crazy. While these cowboy clad females danced and smiled as they danced.

Folks seemed to be enjoying themselves. The owners seemed to be happier. Jack was content to go along with their happiness. While the cowboy clad females danced, and the crowed cheered, they also seemed to get crazier and crazier. There now, was a line out the door and the parking lot was packed.

Inside, the joint seemed to be shoulder to shoulder and crowded beyond capacity. It was one of the only watering holes in this quiet town. Now. Too noisy. Once could say, out of control.

Jack missed the old days. Jack kind of liked the old days , when folks would belly up to the bar and there were meaningful and thought provoking conversations with folks. Jack could instinctively tell when folks wanted to talk. So. He would walk to them, cock his head, and if they pat his solid and sturdy head, he would stop by for a moment or two.

And listen.

This new crowd was confusing to Jack. And. the dancers atop the bar in the watering hole. He wondered about the energy of the room. It was too much.

Too loud.

Too crazy.

Too impersonal.

Jack, clearly, could not vy for the attention, nor compete with those atop the bar. Jack was certain he did not want to try. What makes humans so discontent with their beautiful lives? He wondered. Why does the simple become so complicated in the lives of humans?

So. Jack took his old place, the quiet place at the end of the bar. And lied back down to make sense of the nonsense going on around him.

Progress is progress when it moves in the right direction. For the best reasons. Jack has spent his life interpreting the wants and needs of the friends who came and went. In the place he held so near and dear. He even considered these folks his brothers.

Jack would stay on and continue his protector role. He decided.

He looked around the room and thought: “My brothers. If one of you wanders away from the truth, and another one brings him back again, remember this: whoever turns a sinner back from his wrong way will save that sinner’s soul from death, and bring about the forgiveness of many sins.”

With that. Jack closed his eyes.

Tomorrow will be another day.