Author's note: This is a story – a very short story – about Jaffer. A puppy
can get into a lot of things, after all.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, but I do own Jaffer
~*~
They heard the puppy long before they saw him. Every head in the waiting room turned towards the door of the veterinarian's office as the crying yelps grew louder and louder with every moment that passed. Finally, the door was pushed open and the source of the cries came into view.
An older man, definitely Military, even though he wasn't in uniform (he just had that aura about him) came through the door shoulder first. He looked frantic, and rumpled, and not at all like he was enjoying the lovely Saturday morning. In one arm he carried the source of the yelps and cries. It was a black Labrador puppy – maybe 8 weeks old – and beautiful. This hand cradled the puppy firmly, holding him completely still, despite the struggling and crying. The other hand held a gallon jar that was broken at the bottom, with jagged edges of glass that were the obvious reason the man was holding the puppy so still.
The puppy had managed to stick his head into the glass jar, and now it was stuck. Quite clearly stuck. The man had apparently broken the bottom of the jar – undoubtedly because he was afraid the puppy would have suffocated with his head stuck in the small area of the container – then had come for help.
The receptionist grinned at the first sight of these two. The man was good looking and obviously harried, the puppy was utterly adorable even though he didn't sound all that adorable just then. Then she saw the blood that smeared the jar and the man's clothing and his hand, and the smile faded. Was it his? Or the puppy's? She stood up and came around, calling over her shoulder for someone to bring her a towel.
"What do we have here?" She asked, trying to calm the puppy and his owner. Both were equally distraught, and the puppy was soaked and shivering.
"He got his head caught in the jar."
Obviously.
"Poor baby!" She was handed a towel, and she used it to wrap around the jagged glass that made up the broken bottom of the jar. "What's his name?"
"Jaffer."
That was a new one.
"And your name?" Keep them talking. It was one of the first rules to calming down an anxious pet owner.
"Jack O'Neill."
"Is that your blood or his?"
"God, I hope it's just mine. I couldn't get a good look, and he won't hold still." Even as he said it, the puppy made another break for freedom, squealing and crying, and wriggling in Jack's hand. Jack paled as he worried about the jagged glass so close to the tender little neck, but the receptionist took Jaffer from him with skillful hands and a warm, reassuring smile.
"Follow me, Mr. O'Neill."
He did as he was told, unwilling to leave his baby in the hands of a stranger, and mentally kicked himself again for not paying attention to what Jaffer had been doing.
~*~
The day had started out simple enough. It was cold, but sunny, and Jack had set out a jar to make sun tea – which was something Sam liked, even though Jack didn't. Since she was coming over later, he'd thought it would be a nice surprise for her. What he hadn't counted on was Jaffer's curiosity. The little black lab had been let out to hang out on the deck while Jack went and made coffee (The deck was fenced so Jack didn't have to worry about him wandering off) and had made a beeline for the tea jar practically before Jack had closed the door behind him.
His nose had dipped into the liquid, and the little tongue had come out to lap at the almost bitter taste. Of course, Jaffer loved trying anything new; bitter, sweet, sour, he didn't care. If it was something he could eat, it was something he'd try at least once. The tea bags had been fished out of the water first. These had an interesting texture, and a strong taste, and they were eaten quickly, before they could escape. Then he'd started drinking the tea. And drinking. And drinking. Before long, the level of liquid was lower than he could reach easily, and the puppy found himself sticking his head deeper and deeper into the jar. Which was fine, until he'd decided he'd had enough, and had tried to get his head free. That was when he'd realized he was stuck, and Jaffer had begun to panic.
He tossed his head, which tipped over the jar – and Jaffer, who at this stage of his life didn't weigh much more than the half-filled jar. Tea washed out of the small spaces between the lab and the jar, soaking him and everything around him as Jaffer began squealing frantically, whipping his head back and forth, trying to free himself.
Jack had heard the squeals and the thuds as the jar continually struck the wood decking, and had come running, but by then Jaffer was completely mad with fear. This was a new situation for both of them, and what had began as something completely innocent, had suddenly turned into a very frightening experience when you're only 8 weeks old.
O'Neill completely panicked. The man was a military genius and as calm as the other side of the pillow when someone was shooting at him, but when it came to his new puppy, he was finding that things had a way of shaking him far more than he'd ever thought possible. There was tea all over, and he was certain Jaffer was drowning in it. He grabbed a hammer and broke the bottom of the jar to drain the liquid, and was promptly slashed by the sharp glass when he'd tried to reach in and check Jaffer's breathing. The little lab was thrashing, so he was breathing, and Jack tried to pull his head out, but only found that the action made Jaffer more panicked, which fueled Jack's own distress. Finally, he gave up, picked up the jar in one hand, the puppy in the other and headed for the door.
He'd seen the Veterinarian office a time or two, so he knew where it was. It wasn't all that far from his house. Of course, he'd never needed the vet before, and he'd only had Jaffer about a week, so it wasn't a place he'd ever been. With one hand holding down the terrified puppy, and the other steering the truck, Jack made good time getting there, completely ignoring the blood that was getting all over his steering wheel.
~*~
"Is he going to be all right?" Jack asked, hovering nervously as the receptionist handed the puppy over to the vet. She was about 28, with a steady hand and a reassuring smile that faded when she saw the blood all over Jack.
"Is that your blood or his?"
"Mine, I think. I hope."
Well, at least he had his priorities right. The vet nodded, and held Jaffer down expertly, then reached one-handed for a small tube of oil.
"What does he have all over him?"
"Tea. And I think he ate the tea bags. Will they hurt him?"
She smiled and smeared the black lab's neck with oil, and had the receptionist hold the jar still. Giving a gentle tug, she pulled the little head free of the jar, and smiled when the yelping immediately stopped.
"Poor baby." She cuddled him tenderly as Jaffer licked her face, probably looking for something else to get into.
"Is he okay?"
"Oh, he will be." She reached for a towel and wrapped the puppy in it, drying him off as well as she could. "How old is he?"
"Eight and a half weeks."
"He's beautiful."
"You should see his momma," Jack told her, smiling in relief when Jaffer stuck his head out of the towel and looked over at him, the brown cheerful eyes locked on Jack's. He didn't look injured.
She handed the puppy to the receptionist, and took up another towel.
"Let me see your hand."
Wiping the blood off expose a series of deep cuts, but nothing that looked too serious.
"You should get those looked at by a doctor."
"I will. Is he cut?"
She shook her head, smiling at his single-mindedness. The puppy was fine, but he was still bleeding.
"He's fine. You'll have to be careful, though. Labs can get into anything, and whatever they get into, chances are, they'll try to eat it."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Let me give him a quick once-over, just to make sure he's okay. Mr...?"
"O'Neill." Jack held out his bloody hand, but jerked it back, grinning. "Jack O'Neill."
She smiled, and flipped Jaffer over onto his back, a position that most puppies hated, but that Jaffer accepted willingly. Especially when she rubbed his fat belly.
"He's really a good looking puppy." He was, too. Well formed, and with beautiful lines. "Where'd you get him?"
"From a friend. He was a gift." Jack was more than willing to discuss Jaffer, who was quickly becoming his pride and joy. "His mother belongs to a friend of mine, and when she had her puppies, he gave me one."
"What a wonderful present. Are you going to show him? Is he registered?"
"Oh, he's registered, they made sure I did that first thing, but he's not going to be a show dog. Or a hunting dog. Just a dog dog. My dog dog." Jack reached down and wrapped his fingers around Jaffer's little black nose affectionately, and the puppy lolled happily at all the attention he was getting.
"Well, he looks fine, although you should take him home and get him dried off before he catches a chill. And if you don't have a regular vet for him yet, bring him back in a couple weeks and we'll get his shot records up to date."
"Sounds good," Jack said, scooping Jaffer up with one hand and stuffing the puppy under his coat to cuddle him against his side where he'd be warm. "Thank you."
"Anytime! I look forward to seeing you both again – but only for routine stuff, okay?"
"Sure thing. We'll stay out of trouble from now on."
She didn't know this O'Neill guy – or his little black lab puppy – but something told Dr. Monica Ray that she hadn't seen the last of these two. They just had that look about them.
~*~
the end...
and so the journey begins...
Disclaimer: I don't own Jack, but I do own Jaffer
~*~
They heard the puppy long before they saw him. Every head in the waiting room turned towards the door of the veterinarian's office as the crying yelps grew louder and louder with every moment that passed. Finally, the door was pushed open and the source of the cries came into view.
An older man, definitely Military, even though he wasn't in uniform (he just had that aura about him) came through the door shoulder first. He looked frantic, and rumpled, and not at all like he was enjoying the lovely Saturday morning. In one arm he carried the source of the yelps and cries. It was a black Labrador puppy – maybe 8 weeks old – and beautiful. This hand cradled the puppy firmly, holding him completely still, despite the struggling and crying. The other hand held a gallon jar that was broken at the bottom, with jagged edges of glass that were the obvious reason the man was holding the puppy so still.
The puppy had managed to stick his head into the glass jar, and now it was stuck. Quite clearly stuck. The man had apparently broken the bottom of the jar – undoubtedly because he was afraid the puppy would have suffocated with his head stuck in the small area of the container – then had come for help.
The receptionist grinned at the first sight of these two. The man was good looking and obviously harried, the puppy was utterly adorable even though he didn't sound all that adorable just then. Then she saw the blood that smeared the jar and the man's clothing and his hand, and the smile faded. Was it his? Or the puppy's? She stood up and came around, calling over her shoulder for someone to bring her a towel.
"What do we have here?" She asked, trying to calm the puppy and his owner. Both were equally distraught, and the puppy was soaked and shivering.
"He got his head caught in the jar."
Obviously.
"Poor baby!" She was handed a towel, and she used it to wrap around the jagged glass that made up the broken bottom of the jar. "What's his name?"
"Jaffer."
That was a new one.
"And your name?" Keep them talking. It was one of the first rules to calming down an anxious pet owner.
"Jack O'Neill."
"Is that your blood or his?"
"God, I hope it's just mine. I couldn't get a good look, and he won't hold still." Even as he said it, the puppy made another break for freedom, squealing and crying, and wriggling in Jack's hand. Jack paled as he worried about the jagged glass so close to the tender little neck, but the receptionist took Jaffer from him with skillful hands and a warm, reassuring smile.
"Follow me, Mr. O'Neill."
He did as he was told, unwilling to leave his baby in the hands of a stranger, and mentally kicked himself again for not paying attention to what Jaffer had been doing.
~*~
The day had started out simple enough. It was cold, but sunny, and Jack had set out a jar to make sun tea – which was something Sam liked, even though Jack didn't. Since she was coming over later, he'd thought it would be a nice surprise for her. What he hadn't counted on was Jaffer's curiosity. The little black lab had been let out to hang out on the deck while Jack went and made coffee (The deck was fenced so Jack didn't have to worry about him wandering off) and had made a beeline for the tea jar practically before Jack had closed the door behind him.
His nose had dipped into the liquid, and the little tongue had come out to lap at the almost bitter taste. Of course, Jaffer loved trying anything new; bitter, sweet, sour, he didn't care. If it was something he could eat, it was something he'd try at least once. The tea bags had been fished out of the water first. These had an interesting texture, and a strong taste, and they were eaten quickly, before they could escape. Then he'd started drinking the tea. And drinking. And drinking. Before long, the level of liquid was lower than he could reach easily, and the puppy found himself sticking his head deeper and deeper into the jar. Which was fine, until he'd decided he'd had enough, and had tried to get his head free. That was when he'd realized he was stuck, and Jaffer had begun to panic.
He tossed his head, which tipped over the jar – and Jaffer, who at this stage of his life didn't weigh much more than the half-filled jar. Tea washed out of the small spaces between the lab and the jar, soaking him and everything around him as Jaffer began squealing frantically, whipping his head back and forth, trying to free himself.
Jack had heard the squeals and the thuds as the jar continually struck the wood decking, and had come running, but by then Jaffer was completely mad with fear. This was a new situation for both of them, and what had began as something completely innocent, had suddenly turned into a very frightening experience when you're only 8 weeks old.
O'Neill completely panicked. The man was a military genius and as calm as the other side of the pillow when someone was shooting at him, but when it came to his new puppy, he was finding that things had a way of shaking him far more than he'd ever thought possible. There was tea all over, and he was certain Jaffer was drowning in it. He grabbed a hammer and broke the bottom of the jar to drain the liquid, and was promptly slashed by the sharp glass when he'd tried to reach in and check Jaffer's breathing. The little lab was thrashing, so he was breathing, and Jack tried to pull his head out, but only found that the action made Jaffer more panicked, which fueled Jack's own distress. Finally, he gave up, picked up the jar in one hand, the puppy in the other and headed for the door.
He'd seen the Veterinarian office a time or two, so he knew where it was. It wasn't all that far from his house. Of course, he'd never needed the vet before, and he'd only had Jaffer about a week, so it wasn't a place he'd ever been. With one hand holding down the terrified puppy, and the other steering the truck, Jack made good time getting there, completely ignoring the blood that was getting all over his steering wheel.
~*~
"Is he going to be all right?" Jack asked, hovering nervously as the receptionist handed the puppy over to the vet. She was about 28, with a steady hand and a reassuring smile that faded when she saw the blood all over Jack.
"Is that your blood or his?"
"Mine, I think. I hope."
Well, at least he had his priorities right. The vet nodded, and held Jaffer down expertly, then reached one-handed for a small tube of oil.
"What does he have all over him?"
"Tea. And I think he ate the tea bags. Will they hurt him?"
She smiled and smeared the black lab's neck with oil, and had the receptionist hold the jar still. Giving a gentle tug, she pulled the little head free of the jar, and smiled when the yelping immediately stopped.
"Poor baby." She cuddled him tenderly as Jaffer licked her face, probably looking for something else to get into.
"Is he okay?"
"Oh, he will be." She reached for a towel and wrapped the puppy in it, drying him off as well as she could. "How old is he?"
"Eight and a half weeks."
"He's beautiful."
"You should see his momma," Jack told her, smiling in relief when Jaffer stuck his head out of the towel and looked over at him, the brown cheerful eyes locked on Jack's. He didn't look injured.
She handed the puppy to the receptionist, and took up another towel.
"Let me see your hand."
Wiping the blood off expose a series of deep cuts, but nothing that looked too serious.
"You should get those looked at by a doctor."
"I will. Is he cut?"
She shook her head, smiling at his single-mindedness. The puppy was fine, but he was still bleeding.
"He's fine. You'll have to be careful, though. Labs can get into anything, and whatever they get into, chances are, they'll try to eat it."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Let me give him a quick once-over, just to make sure he's okay. Mr...?"
"O'Neill." Jack held out his bloody hand, but jerked it back, grinning. "Jack O'Neill."
She smiled, and flipped Jaffer over onto his back, a position that most puppies hated, but that Jaffer accepted willingly. Especially when she rubbed his fat belly.
"He's really a good looking puppy." He was, too. Well formed, and with beautiful lines. "Where'd you get him?"
"From a friend. He was a gift." Jack was more than willing to discuss Jaffer, who was quickly becoming his pride and joy. "His mother belongs to a friend of mine, and when she had her puppies, he gave me one."
"What a wonderful present. Are you going to show him? Is he registered?"
"Oh, he's registered, they made sure I did that first thing, but he's not going to be a show dog. Or a hunting dog. Just a dog dog. My dog dog." Jack reached down and wrapped his fingers around Jaffer's little black nose affectionately, and the puppy lolled happily at all the attention he was getting.
"Well, he looks fine, although you should take him home and get him dried off before he catches a chill. And if you don't have a regular vet for him yet, bring him back in a couple weeks and we'll get his shot records up to date."
"Sounds good," Jack said, scooping Jaffer up with one hand and stuffing the puppy under his coat to cuddle him against his side where he'd be warm. "Thank you."
"Anytime! I look forward to seeing you both again – but only for routine stuff, okay?"
"Sure thing. We'll stay out of trouble from now on."
She didn't know this O'Neill guy – or his little black lab puppy – but something told Dr. Monica Ray that she hadn't seen the last of these two. They just had that look about them.
~*~
the end...
and so the journey begins...