A 2024 JATAKA TALE

A 2024 Jataka Tale

by

Antoine J Polgar

In a town in Southern Vermont, a homeless wanderer and sometimes beggar, known only to town residents as Carlos, died suddenly on the bridge over the Saxton River with his faithful dog Prentice beside him. Prentice was usually comfortably ensconced on a pillow in a basket next to Carlos with a water bowl. When Carlos moved around town, Prentice preceded him on a leash attached to a shopping cart borrowed from the local supermarket that contained all of Carlos’ possessions. The bridge over the Saxton River was one of Carlos’ stops on a daily itinerary which included the town park behind the Episcopal church, a park behind the library, a stop for a free lunch either in the basement of the Congregational Church or at a drop-in center for the Elderly on Ethan Allen Street. Once a month he would appear at the U.S. Postal Service office to pick up a disability check as General Delivery set aside by the postmaster for transients. Carlos would spend the money on dog food, alcoholic beverages, snacks, lottery tickets and would share a few dollars with desperate fellow transients. If he ran out of money at the end of the month, he would put up a sign which read, “Running low on dog food for Prentice. Please give if you can. Thank you.” Town residents would contribute a can of dog food or money. They knew Carlos was a fixture and they assumed Prentice had been a stray and Carlos had a connection with him.   

Emeline Wasserman, one of the town advocates for the homeless, knew Carlos was sick but he resisted efforts to hospitalize him. Whenever she visited him on the bridge and offered to take him to the hospital for a checkup, he refused. “Who’s going to take care of Prentice?”

“He can stay at the shelter while you’re in the hospital,” she said. “He’ll be fine.”

“He won’t like it there. It would be like putting him in jail,” Carlos said.

“Then I’ll take care of him,” Emeline suggested. Carlos didn’t accept the offer.

There was some talk among members of the Town Selectboard and the Town Attorney in a closed meeting about removing Carlos to the hospital against his will, but one member warned of litigation by the ACLU and the subject was dropped. 

Prentice was always at Carlos’ side. In winter, the homeless wanderer was housed with Prentice in a warming space sponsored by a local church to prevent them from freezing to death. In the spring and summer, Carlos pitched a tent in a riverbank grove where other homeless people had pitched their tents. 

But one day, walkers on the bridge saw Carlos slumped over and Prentice leave his basket and attempt to revive Carlos. Prentice was pushing Carlos’ head with his nose with his two front paws on his shoulders. Carlos was unconscious.  Someone called 911. A volunteer rescue truck from the fire department around the corner responded. Carlos could not be revived.

Although Prentice tried to follow Carlos to the ambulance, he was not allowed to accompany him to the hospital. He was abandoned on the bridge and in his distress he approached every passer-by for help. A sympathetic observer noticed Prentice’s distress and appealed to the police officer at the site to take him to the local animal shelter where he was checked by a vet technician and put up for adoption.

Over a period of several weeks, the shelter included a photo of Carlos’ dog in its offers of adoption in the local weekly newspaper. There were no offers. Perhaps it was because of his infelicitous characterization as “Carlos the beggar’s dog,” or as Carlos’ “faithful companion in mourning,” his approximate age of nine or his enigmatic appearance as a vague but unique mix of terrier, akita and labrador retriever.   

During that period, an elderly resident of the town, a retired bachelor professor emeritus of philosophy at the college, Claude Lesage, read the adoption notice and decided to adopt Prentice. He drove over to the shelter one day to fill out the adoption application and to meet with Mrs. Pearson, the shelter manager. Katrina, a high school volunteer who had been taking Prentice on his daily walks outside the shelter, sat in on the meeting.

When Mrs. Pearson asked the professor why he wanted to adopt Prentice, the professor replied, “I live alone. I’m retired. I think I need a companion.”

“Have you ever owned a dog?” Mrs. Pearson asked.

The professor shook his head.

What the professor left out was his belief that he was losing his mind and suffering from the onset of dementia. According to his expert self-diagnosis, he was beginning to be forgetful. Sometimes he forgot what day it was or could not find his credit cards or car keys. He forgot people’s names. Such moments triggered uncontrollable rages and moods of depression. To spare his friends such outbursts, he ignored their calls to seek out his company, and the calls gradually ceased. He had withdrawn from society. Yet he was perfectly capable of looking after himself and attending to all his needs, including his personal affairs. And he could drive. But it occurred to him – he didn’t know why - a dog as a companion would be preferable to human company and the only dog he wanted to adopt was Prentice, the beggar’s dog.

The answer was no because the professor was too old and might predecease Prentice. “I’m sorry. It is against our policy,” Mrs. Pearson said. The decision was categorical - like all administrative policies.

Katrina surprised Mrs. Pearson. She spoke up. “I don’t agree with the policy,” Katrina said.

Katrina was a fourteen-year-old high school girl who aspired to become a vet. She was a volunteer dog walker at the shelter and among the dogs she walked every afternoon was Prentice. Katrina enjoyed being around animals more than being around people, including her parents. She was an only child too and since her mother and father decided something was wrong with her, they decided in their wisdom they should minister to her need to relate to people rather than animals by forbidding her to keep a pet. This prompted Katrina to decide on her own to volunteer at the shelter without asking their permission.

“Prentice and I have got to know each other. While he is no different than other animals, there is something unusual about Prentice,” Katrina said.

“Ok, Katrina, what is it?” the manager asked.

“His caring soul.”

“He has a soul?”

“I can tell. He is still mourning the death of his owner. When I come to the kennel, he wakes up out of his torpor and is eager to go. The other day, when I was about to cross the highway, he tugged at the leash at the corner to prevent me from crossing when I misjudged the speed of a car barreling down the highway as we were about to cross. He was watching out for me. Another time, I tripped over his leash and stumbled and fell and he turned around to see what happened to me and climbed on top of my chest to look into my face to see if I was ok.”

Then the professor surprised him. He did not going into a rage. He spoke in a conciliatory manner. “Your policy is well conceived,” conceded Professor Lesage, “I won’t live forever. But suppose if I die first I provide for Prentice’s care at the shelter in my will until he is adopted again.”

“Well, despite our strict policy,” the manager said, “I will ask our Board if I can make an exception.” Of course, she had already made up her mind to dictate such an exception to the Board, but she did not want to reveal that “money talks.” And she could always rely on Katrina’s dissenting voice. Prentice was a caring soul.

It was agreed that Professor Emeritus Claude Lesage should adopt Prentice after he contacted his lawyer and added a codicil in his will with a generous provision for the animal shelter for Prentice’s care if he should predecease Prentice and even in the event he did not predecease Prentice, the shelter would be included in his will anyway.  

Prentice not only became the professor’s companion, but Katrina also became the professor’s new friend. She had become attached to Prentice too. She would often ride her bike over to the Professor’s house on the edge of the college campus to visit them. On one of her visits, Katrina suggested that the Professor obtain a service dog vest for Prentice.

“How would I go about it?” he asked Katrina.

Katrina helped the professor find a mental health professional online who for a modest fee wrote a letter that enabled him to officially identify Prentice as his service dog. Prentice thereafter accompanied his new owner to the supermarket in his new service dog vest. Katrina also printed out a sign that said “OK to pet me even though I’m working” to attach to the vest. Prentice always stopped for children or elderly people who Some shoppers recognized him as Carlos the beggar’s dog, and since Professor Emeritus Lesage was a regular customer, no-one at the supermarket asked Prentice or the professor for his service dog credentials.

One day as the professor left the supermarket parking lot with Prentice tethered to the passenger seat behind him looking out the open window, he stopped at the light to make a right turn. They saw a man at the exit where cars paused at the red light with a wife and infant child seated beside him in the grass in the shade. The man was holding up with a huge sign that said “We’re travelling. Need money for food and gas. God Bless You.”

From his travels to Mexico a half-century earlier, the professor recognized the wife was wearing an embroidered Mayan dress from Yucatan and the husband was wearing a Guayabera shirt.   

The professor and the dog must have been thinking alike. The dog looked at the professor and the professor reached for his wallet, opened the window on the passenger side and with scarcely a look - gave the gentleman a dollar. The man said, “God Bless You” and they drove off.

The professor expected a yelp or a look of approval from Prentice, but none was forthcoming. 

“Aren’t you pleased?” asked the professor.

The dog lay down on the passenger seat covering his head on his paws out of embarrassment.

This became a ritual. On each weekly visit to the supermarket, the professor gave the gentleman at the exit a dollar and the dog reacted by moping.

Finally, out of frustration over Prentice’s reaction, the professor decided to cease the practice. He drove by the family without stopping and Prentice started barking in protest.

“Stop that infernal noise,” the professor cried out. “They said they were travelling. It’s been several weeks. What is holding them up? I thought I was helping them get home to Mexico. They are still here! What are they waiting for? If they are not planning to travel, what is preventing them from working? There are signs up everywhere. People are hiring.”

Then for the first time, he heard the voice of the beggar’s dog.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you feel they owe you an explanation for not moving on? Maybe they were working on a farm without papers and the labor contractor refused to pay them their promised wages, kept their passports and threatened them with deportation. Maybe they are afraid of being separated and prosecuted for crossing the border without papers. What is going to happen to the child laying on the blanket next to the mother if they are all arrested? And what is going to happen at the airport in Honduras when they are interrogated?”

“Mexico,” the professor said, I recognize their garments from Yucatan…” he interrupted.

“Don’t argue, those garments could be from Guatemala or Honduras. Maybe the engine on their van needs to be replaced and their cellphone bill must be paid. The infant needs medicine. A close relative is being held hostage at the Mexican border by traffickers and needs to be ransomed and there are the mounting debts their parents incurred from loan sharks at home to finance their trip which need to be repaid.”

“What’s your point?” the professor asked.

“My point is you have not given with a good heart. You don’t even look at the family when you give them the almighty gringo dollar. You just look straight ahead as if you’re giving reluctantly. How far will those few dollars get them?”

  “Stop hectoring me,” the professor said in a rage as he was about to lose control of the car. “I can’t hold up traffic at the light when other cars waiting behind me. I must see where I’m going.”

“You know what I’m saying,” said Prentice. “You barely acknowledge their existence with a smile. You express no delight in giving.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you could talk? And who told you about all their problems? Even if they’re true, I can’t solve all their problems. I’m not a miracle-worker. How do I know it’s not a swindle?”

“Calm down,” Prentice said. “You’re going to get us both killed. If you don’t calm down, I’ll tell Katrina to take me back to the shelter. Carlos never raised his voice to me once.”

“I apologize,” said the professor.

“For a college professor, you don’t seem to know much about the wholesome practice of generosity. What subject did you teach anyway?” said Prentice.

“What do you mean? I’m not seeking any rewards in the afterlife if that’s what you mean. Every culture and religion promises rewards for generosity. I expect nothing in return. If you must know, I taught philosophy and History of Religion,” the professor said.

Prentice responded. “I know a little about religion. Every religion teaches that a person who acts generously projects his personality into the infinite but if a man gives with an impure heart, the act compromises goodness in the universe. An act of true mercy is an act of universal consolation. It ransoms the hostages and protects humanity,”

“You sound like a Catholic mystic,” the professor said putting on his directional and turning onto the shoulder of the highway. When he saw no traffic coming in either direction, he made a forbidden U-turn.

“Where are we going?” asked Prentice.

“Back to the supermarket, where else?” the professor replied.

Professor Lesage parked the car, untethered Prentice and went to visit with the migrant family under the tree to get to know them, where they were from and what he could do for them. He contacted his friends again and enlisted their aid. They practically adopted the family. He had become a caring soul too - not knowing that Prentice, the beggar dog, sitting beside him and now silent again, was the Bodhisattva, a compassionate Buddhist deity who had fortuitously entered his life.