Jack's Treasure

Jack inhaled deeply, breathing in the salty air. It was a beautiful warm day at the beach. The sand was warm beneath his paws, so he ran into the surf, splashing around to cool off. He leaned down to take a drink before he remembered that this big puddle with the waves didn’t taste very good.

“Jack! Come on buddy! It’s time to go.”

He turned immediately when he heard Ambrose calling him. Ambrose was his human, part of his pack. It was a small pack, just the two of them, but Jack didn’t mind. He and Ambrose went everywhere together.

He ran quickly to Ambrose, his tongue hanging out in a smile. and skidded to a stop in front of him, shaking his long golden fur to dry off.

“Damn it Jack,” Ambrose laughed. “You got me wet.”

The human was a tall man, with really long legs. He had a furry jaw and intelligent eyes the color of tree bark, just like Jack’s. His clothes were old and comfortable, and he always carried a big backpack.

He and Ambrose had been together for a couple of years now. Jack’s old family didn’t want him, so they let him out on the side of the road. It made him sad when he remembered watching them drive off without him, as if he meant nothing.

After a few days of wandering around the beach and fending for himself, Jack found Ambrose sitting alone on the beach, staring sadly at the waves. Deciding he needed a friend, Jack ambled over. He bumped him with his head, then plopped down on the sand next to the man, watching him carefully.

Ambrose petted him and then shared his beef jerky with Jack. After that, he and Jack became best friends. They were totally inseparable.

Ambrose reached down and clipped a long blue leash on his faded red collar. “We gotta go Jack, it’s time to line up at the shelter.”

Ambrose and Jack stayed in some place they called “the shelter”. It was a big giant room with rows and rows of shabby cots, covered with thin blankets. Every night the room filled up with men and the sounds of snoring filled the night. Jack slept underneath the cot where he could keep an eye on Ambrose and make sure no one robbed him or hurt him while he slept.

Jack had to be very quiet in the shelter. Normally they didn’t allow dogs, but Ambrose had gotten a special letter from his doctor at the VA Hospital that said that Ambrose needed something called an “emotional support animal” for his PTSD. The doctor told the shelter people that Jack helped keep Ambrose calm. Jack was good at keeping Ambrose calm.

He took his job as helper seriously, and whenever Ambrose became upset or started shaking, Jack would lean against his human and remind him that he was there to help. Ambrose would pet his head until his breathing calmed and he felt better.

As they headed past the rocks leading to the trail back to the street, Jack got a whiff of something different. He could not place it, but it was something that did not quite belong. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

He took off running but stopped short when he reached the end of his leash. Ambrose dug his heels in, trying to direct Jack back the way they were heading. Jack pulled hard, ignoring the pressure on his neck.

“Come on Ambrose,” he told him telepathically. “I need to check something out.”

Ambrose didn’t respond. Why couldn’t the humans understand the dog language? It was so frustrating. They didn’t even try to learn.

Jack pulled again as hard as he could, and the leash slipped out of Ambrose’s hand. He took off running like his fur was on fire, heading into the cave where the strange smell was coming from. Ambrose ran after him, swearing at him.

The cave was pretty small, and Jack came here often enough to know that the cave was only accessible when the tide was unusually low. On most days, it was surrounded by seawater.

Following his nose, Jack went to the corner of the cave and started digging. His paws moved furiously, trying to uncover whatever he smelled. Ambrose caught up with him and tried to grab his leash, but Jack resisted, whining urgently to help the man understand that he was doing something very important.

“What is it, boy?” Ambrose asked. “If we lose our shelter bed ‘cuz we’re late, I’m going to kill you.”

“No talking, have to dig,” Jack told him telepathically. Ambrose sighed at him, almost as if he understood.

Jack had dug about a foot down in the wet packed sand when he felt it: a canvas bag. He barked and nodded towards his hole. Ambrose peered down curiously.

“I’ll be damned, you found something,” he said, reaching into the hole. “What is it?”

Ambrose untied the strings to the canvas bag. It smelled like a dead animal and Ambrose gagged a bit. The smell was stronger by the hole. Jack dug some more and saw that there was a dead animal in the hole. Maybe a raccoon, or a giant rat. It was mostly decomposed, and it smelled awesome.

“I wonder if that tastes as good as it smells,” he asked himself. He stuck his snout in to take a taste, but Ambrose grabbed his collar and pulled him away.

“No buddy, that’s gross.”

Jack sat on his haunches, panting from the effort of his extraordinary digging. He still wanted to taste the meat he found, but he trusted Ambrose wouldn’t keep him away unless he thought it was bad.

Ambrose turned the bag over and several plastic packs fell out. The man picked one of the bags up to examine it, his eyes widening in shock.

“Holy crap, this is money,” he said excitedly. He looked around, then shoved the packs into the bottom of the backpack he always carried. “Let get out of here before someone finds us Jack.”

Ambrose grabbed his leash, and the two of them hurried out of the cave. The man seemed nervous that someone would follow them, but when they looked around, there was no one paying attention to them.

They headed to the shelter, arriving just in time to keep their reserved bed. After they ate dinner in the cafeteria, Ambrose brought Jack into one of the handicapped bathrooms. He locked the door and sat on the cold tile, his back against the door. Jack sat next to him, wondering what was going to happen.

The man brought out the bags from his backpack. He silently counted the money, then whispered to Jack, “There’s twenty thousand bucks here Jack, what did you get us into?”

Jack wandered over to the toilet to get a drink, and as he returned, he saw Ambrose opening the final bag. This one did not have money in it. Instead, it had a little black book. It had some kind of bumpy black material on the outside, and inside the pages were filled with black scribbles.

Someone knocked on the door and Ambrose jumped. “Just a minute,” he called, quickly the money to the bottom of the backpack. He slid the notebook into his pocket and rose to his feet, grabbing Jack’s leash.

“Come on pal, let’s see what’s in this journal.”

Ambrose lay down on the cot, using his backpack as a pillow, and Jack settled in for a nap next to him. He knew whatever Ambrose found out, he would not talk about it in the shelter. There were too many people who would steal from him if they knew he had cash on him.

The next morning they headed to the VA hospital. Ambrose went there every week to talk to a man with kind eyes whose name was “Counselor”.

“So, everything in here in confidential, right?” Ambrose asked Counselor.

The other man nodded, “Yes, unless you tell me something that makes me think you or someone else is in harm’s way.”

Ambrose nodded, then told him about how Jack had found and dug up the bag of money.

“Twenty thousand dollars, are you sure?” Counselor asked in shock.

Ambrose reached into his backpack and showed the money to Counselor. “Here it is,” he said, stacking it on the table between them. “And there was also a book.” The man waved the little black notebook in front of him.

“What’s in it?” Counselor asked.

“I think it’s the bookie’s ledger,” Ambrose explained, sliding the notebook over. “See how the there are lists of sporting events, then it lists the odds, and people’s names followed by dollar amounts?”

Counselor thumbed through the notebook, nodding his head thoughtfully. “I think you’re right,” he said.

“What do I do with it?” Ambrose asked. “Do I have to turn it over to the police?”

Counselor pursed his lips. “Well, there’s nothing in here to identify the bookie, and even if there was, did you notice the dates in the ledger? They’re all from the mid-1950s. It’s likely whoever kept this ledger is long dead.”

“You think I can keep it?” Ambrose asked, his voice trembling. Jack pushed to his feet and walked over to lean against his human’s leg. Ambrose patted his head and Jack closed his eyes happily. “What should I do with it?”

“You could use it for a deposit on an apartment,” Counselor suggested. “You have enough money from your monthly VA benefits to afford the rent if it’s not too fancy.”

Ambrose shook his head. “I can’t live right on top of people in an apartment,” he said. “It’s too loud, it freaks me out.”

“What about a mobile home then?” Counselor asked. “A lot of vets like them. I could ask your caseworker to help you find some that are for sale, and then you’ll just have to pay the space rent every month. You and Jack will have a little yard then, as well as your own private space.”

Ambrose nodded. “That would be really nice,” he said softly. “Our own little place, Jack and me.”

The next week passed in a blur. A nice lady named Jamie helped them look at little houses, and Ambrose found one he liked. It was private, in the far corner of the mobile home lot, with a good amount of distance between him and the neighbors. Ambrose called it a “double-wide”.

Jamie helped Ambrose sign some papers, then he handed several stacks of money to a man in a suit. The man shook Ambrose’s hand and gave him a key.

“Let’s get you guys home,” Jamie said. She drove them back to their new house and even rolled down the window so Jack could stick his head out the window, his jowls and ears flapping in the wind.

When they reached the house, Jack raced to the corner and peed on the house to let everyone know this was his territory now. He flew into the house as soon as Ambrose opened the door.

He flopped on the couch and stretched out long with a happy sigh.

“Make yourself at home buddy,” Ambrose laughed. “I guess this really is your place anyway, since you found the money.”

Ambrose reached down and rubbed Jack right between the ears, just like he liked. Jack stretched his neck and licked the man’s furry face.

“It’s our house,” Jack told him telepathically.

Predictably, Ambrose seemed to not understand him. But that was OK. The important thing was that he and his human were safe now.