Recently semi-retired, armed with a free bus pass and the emotional baggage of a marital breakup, I found myself at more than one loose end. My closest friend turned out to be my black labrador pup, Jackson, and together we set out on an adventure inspired by Steinbeck himself, who in the early 1960s embarked on a trip with his own four-legged friend Charley to rediscover America. This time it was to prove a different kind of quest, a journey of self-discovery, identity, of the value of friendship, challenge and perseverance – and an exploration of our own once and future countries.
Jackson was born on the day the towers fell, albeit 23 years later, and apparently the same day as William Wallace’s victory at the Battle of Stirling Bridge, over 700 years earlier in 1297. September 11th 2024. A date that, as it turned out, connected me to so many aspects of my future life. Like so many, I recall watching events play out in 2001, 3000 miles away across the Atlantic. It seemed so far away yet at that point so close to home too. Little did I know it could eventually become my home, and the home of my best friend, but then I’m bounding way too far ahead. So let me continue the introductions.
Jackson, at the time of writing, is a little short of two years old, and he’s a handsome black labrador pup in a grown-up’s body. He’s bold and bouncy, just as curious, eager and energetic as he was as at 8 weeks when I picked him up with my wife at the time. He was supposed to be our companion when I was at home, my wife’s rock when I was working away as I often did, working in the worlds of travel and international education. Travel was in my blood, but as it turned out a transfusion was on the cards and neither of us had realised the distance between us had gone beyond miles. That’s a story for another place and time. But what you need to know right now is that I had reached a milestone, one that I never thought would have been such a huge one for me. Several milestones at a crossroads in fact. At the top of a hill with views in every direction. Metaphors everywhere. And one constant – Jackson.
I’d love to say that he and I had a plan, but as I moved out of our house to a shabby rented two-bedroom flat, Jackson’s confusion was etched on his shiny black face. He loved both of us, his constant companions who loved him right back, and I’d been away before, but never with this many bags. And they kept going, those bags, along with boxes he could neither understand nor get into. And I kept popping back to take him for a walk, then, when he looked for me at dinner or breakfast, I was away again. No consistency, let alone continuity. Something had to be done, so when it was becoming clear I wasn’t coming back to live, he simply lay in the doorway, looked up at me, and his eyes said “WTF, man, we need an adventure !”
International-Eyes.org 