The massive black dog sat eager and alert, his great head thrust out of the passenger side window, in the back seat of the vehicle. As we drove gently round the many curves in the quite country lane he would eye the verge of the road intently hoping to see deer.
On some days his patience, and refusal to be distracted by us, was rewarded with the sight of a doe and fawn, or a grazing stag right by the road. He would stiffen and an ardent quiver would pass through the powerful body. He watched in silence as we passed them. They barely raised a head to acknowledge our passage.
After a few moments he would relax slightly and begin the intent scrutiny all over as we continued along the little roads, confirmed in his belief that this was his lucky window!
For months we had tried to get Jack to turn around and look through the other window, never with any success. Had he but once spent a journey looking out the other side he would have seen three to seven time the number of deer … but nothing would turn Jack from his ‘lucky window’.
It became a family saying, and when the results of our searches or endeavours seemed to meet with indifferent or only moderate success we say: “I do hope I’m not looking out of Jack’s lucky window!” Although Jack is no longer with us, this phrase always brings grins of understanding, and loving remembrance.