Stallard: Those doggone tears

Published 7:00 am Sunday, June 13, 2021

Jack Stallard

Growing up, I had a run of bad luck with dogs. It continued later in life.

There was Pepper, a black and white terrier mix that might have weighed 10 pounds but had the attitude of a pit bull on steroids when it came to other dogs.

Pepper liked to mix it up, and he didn’t care how big the other dog was. One night he went missing, and when we found him the next morning, he was a mess. I want to think it took several dogs to do that much damage, and I also want to believe Pepper inflicted some damage on them before the battle was done.

When he died later in the day, I cried like a baby. I was 8.

Doofus was a full-blood beagle, and he was a miracle puppy.



My uncle showed up at our house one morning before school with a small, wet critter that looked like a rat. We honestly didn’t even know what it was it was until we cleaned it up a little.

Money was tight, so taking him to a veterinarian was out of the question. We did call one, however, and he told us to put him in a shoe box and keep him comfortable until he died. There was no way he would make it.

They were wrong, and Doofus grew into one of the most beautiful beagles I’ve ever seen. Trouble is, he loved to chase cars, and one day he caught one.

I went down to the creek behind our house for the rest of the day so no one could see me cry. I was 17.

I swore I would never have another dog, but when my wife and I bought our first house in 2000, I asked if we could make sure we had a fence in the back so I could get another beagle. We found Dixie in Daingerfield, and we quickly became buddies.

A year later, on my birthday, someone stole Dixie out of my backyard.

After I wished all sorts of maladies and calamities on the person who stole my dog, I cried and swore that would be the last time I shed tears over a critter. I was 34.

When my son turned 10, my brother decided Kyle needed a dog. We gave the OK, but only if it was an inside dog.

Sarge is 9 now, and he’s pretty famous in East Texas. Each Friday during the high school football regular season, I take his photo with the cover of The Zone weekly preview section and post it on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. If I don’t do that by 8 a.m., folks start asking why not.

When we go for walks in Kilgore and cars pass us, someone inevitably yells “Hello Sarge!” I’ve been around here for more than three decades. I probably wrote about their daddy and mama when they played sports, but Sarge gets all the love.

I’m actually OK with that. He’s a lot more loveable than me, which is why I turned to his fans — my friends and family — for prayers this past week when I thought we were about to lose Sarge.

Shortly after I got home from work on Tuesday, Sarge had some sort of episode. It looked like his body just shut down. He sprawled out on his stomach with all four legs stretched out, and when he tried to get up he couldn’t.

We rushed him to the pet emergency clinic, and while we waited for the good people there to check him out, I posted a note on Facebook asking folks to mention Sarge’s name to the man upstairs if they had a minute.

By the time we left the clinic, more than 400 comments or notifications filled the post. When I gave an update after we got home — we’re still not sure what happened, but all of his tests checked out and he was back to his goofy, spoiled self — another 250 folks responded with good wishes, Hallelujahs and clapping hands.

I didn’t sleep much Tuesday night. I wanted to be awake enough to take care of Sarge if he had another episode. Besides, it’s hard to sleep when your eyes keep leaking.

Must have been allergies, because I’m 55 and I quit crying over dogs a long time ago.

Jack Stallard is sports editor of the Longview News-Journal. Email: jstallard@news-journal.com; follow on Twitter @lnjsport