1977 Jamie, the Aftermath

In 1977, I had gotten a divorce and was living with my mother in Maine.  A good friend was living in Dallas and I decided to visit her, and then go see my grandparents in Vernon.  My German Shepherd, Jamie, (now called Haus) was in relatively good health, though he was 11 years old by then.  I was very nervous about seeing him after 8 years.  Would he remember me?  Did I want him to?  In a way, I didn't.  It would be easier for both of us if he didn't.

When I arrived, Haus was sitting on the back porch.  My uncle Bill met me at the car and told me that when I entered the gate, Jamie would come barking and he would be ferocious.  Haus had quite a reputation as a guard dog.  Once someone had been verbally abusive to my Grandma King and when Haus heard the raised voices, he actually grabbed one of the men by the arm and started pulling him.  Bill said to just stand my ground and he would be right behind me in case Haus got aggressive.  

I opened the gate and Haus came running (as fast as he could, though he was obviously showing his age).  He was intimidating, with his hackles up and his deep bark.  But then, when he was a couple of feet from me, I forgot what Bill told me and just knelt down and said "Jamie, Jamie!"

He stopped and looked at me and I could almost see the recognition in his eyes.  He looked blank, then all of a sudden he was all over me, licking me and almost knocking me down.  Later, Bill said he was scared to death when he saw Jamie stop, because he thought he was about to attack me.  But I saw his eyes and I knew he wasn't.

I spent 2 days there, and it almost broke my heart.  Jamie was torn between his job of guarding Becky and wanting to be by my side.  I remember how his breeder, Mrs. Lochner, had told me one of the reasons she decided to let me have him so young was that puppies create their strongest bond at around 5 weeks.  That bond was deep enough to last 7 years and still be true.

Jamie died less than a year later.  He is buried on what used to be my grandparents' farm that he protected so well.

1969 Jamie and Texas

In 1969, I secretly got married and knew that I would be moving to New York's Greenwich Village to live with David when I graduated from Katharine Gibbs Secretarial School.  It was a volatile time.  My dad didn't know about David and when he found out, I moved out of the Bernardsville house under a black cloud.  

Originally, I had planned to take Jamie with me; I had no doubt in my mind.  My dad talked me out of it, telling me how miserable Jamie would be in the city.  

He was right.  We were living in a tiny, 1-room studio.  It just didn't seem right to bring him there after he'd spent his whole life virtually running free, so I kept putting it off.  


One night my dad called and said he might have a solution.  My uncle Bill in Texas wanted him.  Bill's wife Becky had some kind of disorder causing her to lose consciousness without any warning.  Bill thought Jamie would be a perfect companion for her, to help keep her safe, and give her a little more freedom.  She was basically confined to the house.

At first, it was a shocking plan.  As long as Jamie was in New Jersey, he was close enough for me to visit and see on a regular basis.  But Texas?  I said I needed to think about it, but a few weeks later, my dad called and said they were moving to London.  That forced me to decide - should he come live with me or go to Texas?  As hard as it was to admit, I knew the right decision was for him to go.*

My dad built him a huge wooden crate; it must have weighed 200 lbs.  He took him to the airport and off he went.  My uncle Bill picked him up in Dallas and drove him to Vernon.  

Apparently, Jamie kept trying to escape, but fortunately, he was not successful.  My dad didn't tell me any of this at the time.  I would have been terribly upset to know how unhappy he was.  

Then one day, he was with Becky and she passed out.  Jamie stayed by her side, barking, and my grandmother found her.  After that, Jamie had a job, and he never left her side.  He even went to the beauty parlor with her, sitting outside the door.  Once he had a job, he was a happy dog.  

When I heard about this, I was jealous. He was still my dog.  But I was glad too.  My uncle called him Haus and he was a local legend.  If Becky had a spell, Haus would run and get my grandmother. Because of him, Becky was able to leave the house, which she hadn't been able to do before he came.  He was literally a life saver and I was proud.

• When I moved to the Village, I met an amazing dog named Khan.  He was an Afghan Hound and I knew someday I would have one.  When I agreed to send Jamie to Texas, I basically blackmailed my dad and told him he should give me the money to get another dog, since he had stolen mine.  He sent me $300.  A couple of months later, David and I bought our Afghan Hound puppy, Bandirran Mona Lisa (Shendi).

1968 Jamie and the Bone

One of my nightly chores was to cut up the dog dinners.

We fed Benjamin and Jamie fresh raw meat that we got from the butcher. Every night I would cut it up into chunks, smaller for Benjamin, larger for Jamie.

I had just finished reading "Beyond Belief", the story of the Moors Murders, which was a very bloody and gruesome story.

After reading that book, I couldn't do it anymore, it made me sick.  I had to trade chores with my sister.

Big bloody meaty disgusting bone

Jamie loved big juicy meaty bloody bones.  He was only allowed to eat them outside.  He slept on my bed every night, or if he got too warm, on the floor beside my bed.  A few days after I read "Beyond Belief", I crawled into bed and my foot felt something slimy and cold.  I got back out and turned on the light and noticed my foot was covered in blood.  After I got over the shock, I threw back the covers, and shoved down at the bottom of the bed was a big, bloody slimy bone.  Jamie had found the perfect hiding place.  I have no idea how he smuggled that bone into the house.  It was disgusting.  But Jamie was really proud of himself.

1968 Jamie and the Tulips

Jamie was very fond of flowers, tulips in particular.  All along the back of our house were several rows Some of them were the black ones, which my mother prized greatly.

One day she went outside to water them and let out a shriek!   When I went running, I saw that every tulip was gone.  All the stems were there, all the leaves were there, but every flower was gone.  We couldn't imagine what had happened to them.

A few days later, I happened to notice Jamie cruising through the tulip stems.

When the next batch bloomed, I waited and sure enough, he went and bit off every tulip.

1968 Jamie, Is Too Smart Too Smart?

Jamie was such an incredibly smart dog, I decided to go beyond teaching him to roll over or shake hands.  I taught him to prepare to go to Vietnam (remember, this was in 1968).  I would say, "Jamie, are you ready to go to Vietnam?" and he would drop to his belly.


Then I would point my finger and say "bang bang" and he would roll over and play dead.  Then I would say, "Get in the mud!" and he would crawl on his belly until I told him he was done.


He was so smart he took short cuts.

At the time, I was interested in archery and had a nice bow.  My dad got me a bale of hay and we put a target on it.  I would go into the woods behind our house and shot arrows, sometimes into the target, sometimes into the woods.  Jamie would sit beside me and when I had shot all my arrows, I would tell him to "go find the arrows, Jamie".  He would take off in leaps and bounds and go find the arrows and bring them back.

One day, he decided it would make more sense to go and wait for the arrows.  As I was shooting the first one, he jumped up and galloped into the woods beside the target, early waiting for the arrow.  Fortunately, I was able to shoot the arrow in the other direction.  Apparently his plan was to catch them in midair.  I explained to him that this was probably not a good idea.

Too smart.

1968 Getting Jamie

When we moved to Bernardsville, NJ, from Paris, we had my mother’s dog, Benjamin, a beautiful golden Cocker Spaniel.  In Bernardsville, we had a huge yard and woods all around, and I wanted my own dog very badly.  My dad said I could get a dog as long as it was a "real dog", a "big dog".  So I decided to get a German Shepherd.  I admit, my dad influenced me to some extent.  As a kid he had had a 1/2 coyote-1/2 German Shepherd and he said she was the best dog he ever had.  

So my mother and I went on a GSD search.  We found my puppy about 50 miles away at the home of a GSD breeder who, it turns out, was quite well known.  At the time, I knew nothing about breeding, and even less about showing.  I just knew I wanted my puppy.  

German Shepherd puppy

When we went to see the litter, they were about 3 weeks old, too young to come home.  The breeder, Mrs. Lochner, spent a lot of time with us, explaining how the female was a German import, and about how the quality is controlled in Germany by limiting the size of the litters, etc.  The mother's side was filled with conformation and obedience champions, as well as other titles.  The dad was an American dog who was a reputable show dog.   But I didn't care; I just wanted my puppy.

There were 5 puppies, and they all came at me at once, just like in the movies.  But there was one who just seemed special to me and I chose him right away.  I was so incredibly excited, but then I realized that he wouldn't be able to come home with me, not for weeks and weeks.  That broke my heart, and my mother said maybe we should keep looking for one who was ready, but I couldn't do it.  That was my dog.

German Shepherd Puppy

So we left without him.  I called Mrs. Lochner several times a week to see how he was doing.  She said he could leave at eight weeks.  Eight weeks?  That was five weeks after I first saw him.  After two weeks of calling, Mrs. Lochner asked to speak to my dad on the phone.  When he was done, he turned to me and said, "How would you like to go get your puppy tomorrow?"   I was ecstatic.  Apparently, Mrs. Lochner decided I was responsible enough to get him so young.  She realized how much I wanted him, and what good care he would get.  There were rules that we had to follow (not going outside before shots, etc). but that was easy.  

When we finally brought him home, he was just a bundle of black and tan fur.  It was instant love.

He was already registered when I got him:

Arnim von Haus Lochner 

(Arnim of the House of Lochner)  

I named him Jamie after a character in a book called "The Well of Loneliness".