The thought of the days when Thomas was in Lincoln reminded me that this would be the first season in some time that I would not get to see the Huskers play at Memorial Stadium. While the rest of the family (including my wife Nancy) was attending the University of Nebraska, I made frequent trips there and seldom missed a home game. This fall there would be no one left in Lincoln. Aaron and his sister Jessica graduated with bachelor’s degrees last year. Jessi went on to the University of Montana for her master’s degree, and Aaron moved to the University of Wisconsin for his graduate degree. This spring Nancy finished her coursework for her PhD, and Jake received his bachelor’s degree. Nancy accepted a position at Wheaton College in Illinois with plans to finish her dissertation over the next year. Jake, of course, was going to Colorado State in Fort Collins with Thomas. I planned to follow the Huskers on television, and my cousin Terry was looking forward to watching the games with me. Terry is the director of human resources at O’Reilly Truck and a NU alumnus. It was Terry who had encouraged Nancy to go to Nebraska for her PhD.

Jake brought the last box out and then collapsed with a sigh into a chair on the deck. I strategically positioned the box in the truck and then pulled down the door and latched it. I joined Jake and Thomas on the deck. As I sat down, Thomas jumped into Jake’s lap.

While Thomas had always seen Judah, his Lab buddy, as a little brother, he had grown up knowing that Jacob was his father. In Thomas’s eyes, Jacob could do no wrong. Thomas listened to all of Jacob’s commands, although Jacob phrased every command as a request. If Jacob wanted to sit in the chair that Thomas was in, Jacob would just say, “Thomas, could you move please?” and Thomas would leap out of the chair and then leap back onto Jacob’s lap or settle on the floor at Jacob’s feet. The respect he had for Jake, however, tended to interfere with his ability to get extra treats. Thomas had always considered the treats of other dogs on the farm to be fair game. He would quickly eat his treat and then start to go after the treats of the other dogs. That is, unless Jacob was present. Jacob would admonish, “Thomas, leave them alone,” and Thomas would just sit down and watch the other dogs eat their treats. The other dogs knew what was happening and would intentionally eat slowly when Jacob was around.

As I looked at Thomas, I realized he was one of a kind. I had given him a hair cut because I knew Jacob would let his hair grow out. With the long hair gone, it was easy to see his long thin body. Mixing the Shih Tzu and pug genes had created an animal that was thinner than a pug, but longer than a Shih Tzu and pug combined. He had the Shih Tzu hair and the pug nose. His tail was either in the air or up on his back like a pug, except his tail didn’t have the pug curl.

With the truck loaded, Jake announced his plan for the evening. He said, “Dad, I want to take Thomas to dinner with us tonight.” I didn’t immediately respond, although Jake wasn’t really expecting a response. Like his politely phrased commands to Thomas, this was more a statement of intent than a request.

Dining at the Hubbell House in Mantorville had become a tradition whenever family or friends visited the farm. Our immediate family always tried to dine there the last night before the departure of the visiting family member. Now Jake was planning on taking Thomas to one of the greatest restaurants in the world, in our family’s opinion, before he and Thomas departed tomorrow.

The Hubbell House has been in operation for more than 150 years. It was a stagecoach stop and hotel before Minnesota was a state. The same family has owned and operated this historic restaurant for more than sixty years. Don, the current owner/manager, was raised in the Hubbell House as a child when his family lived on one of the upper floors. He has seen it expand several times. What started as a small building, where stagecoach passengers could rest and get a sandwich and a drink, is now a sprawling facility with multiple dining rooms, a wine bar, and a large saloon. The clientele is a mix of people. In one dining room, you will find everyone dressed in suits and gowns; while in the next room, you will see people in flip-flops and Hawaiian shirts. Locals like us prefer the Hubbell House Saloon. In the saloon, you can see many of your neighbors and carry on conversations with people across the room without having to worry about disturbing other guests like you would in one of the dining rooms.

Over the years, the Hubbell House has become popular with celebrities visiting the Mayo Clinic. Rochester is twenty minutes away, so many of the patients and their families, who spend more than one day there, come to the Hubbell House for dinner during their stay in Rochester. Movie stars, professional athletes, and famous politicians all come to Mantorville to experience the Hubbell House. The service is outstanding, and the variety and quality of the cuisine is incomparable. In fact, locals who travel the nation and the world gauge other restaurants by how they compare to the Hubbell House. After Ulysses S. Grant dined at the Hubbell House after the Civil War, celebrities have made it a point to visit Mantorville’s finest establishment. The number of high profile visitors continues to grow as the Mayo Clinic draws an increasing number of people to the area year after year.

So that’s the Hubbell House, the place Jacob plans to take his dog to dinner. I hate to admit it, but I know why Jake is determined to take Thomas with us tonight. You see, this would not be the first time Thomas would dine at the Hubbell House. When Thomas was a tiny pup weighing less than ten pounds, Jake would sneak Thomas into the Hubbell House under his jacket. We would sit in a booth with Thomas on the bench between Jake and Aaron. Even as a puppy, Thomas had good manners and always behaved well in public. He also had the natural ability to know when to speak and when to be quiet. He would snuggle down between Aaron and Jake and lay quietly there throughout our meal.

That is, he behaved himself on his first two visits to the Hubbell House. It was during the third visit that he discovered the Seafood Melt. I’m not much for seafood, but even I like the Melt, as the locals call it. It’s a secret blend of seafood and cheese that melts over small slices of bread as they are toasted. On Thomas’s third visit, everyone had ordered the Melt. So when Jacob accidently dropped one of the pieces of bread on the floor, he knew there was still plenty to go around. As it turned out, there would not be a surfeit of Melt that night. Thomas, who had become accustomed to Jacob intentionally dropping food on the floor at home, immediately jumped off the bench and started eating the Seafood Melt on the floor under the booth. He liked it so much, he wanted more. We tried to quietly coax him back up on the bench, but he was intent on staying on the floor and he wanted more to eat. I told Jacob not to feed Thomas, but then the dog started his soft growl. Thomas always growled softly right before he launched into barking. We couldn’t have him bark in the Hubbell House, so we dropped more Melt down to him. Before we left for home, the little canine extortionist had eaten an entire order. Needless to say, that was the last time he had been to the Hubbell House.

Tonight would be different; it would just be Jake and me and Thomas, of course. Thomas was now too big to hide under a coat, but Jake figured that if we used the side door to the Saloon, Thomas would only have to walk a few feet to get to a booth. If he stayed close to the wall, under the booth, in the shadows, no one would see him.

When we left the house that evening, Thomas was excited about getting to come along. Normally, when we leave the house, all he gets is a pet on the head as we head out the door. Tonight, he got an invitation and couldn’t believe it when Jake held the pickup door open for him. Thomas and I rode around together a lot, but it had been a while since he had gotten to ride with Jake and me together. He sat on Jacob’s lap, and I drove.

As we drove into Mantorville, I noticed the fuel gauge light come on, so I pulled into Casey’s to fill up. Casey’s was located in the most picturesque setting that a gas station had ever been placed in. The city park was just across the highway as was the Mantorville dam. The Zumbro River wrapped itself around two other sides of the facility. So as you filled your vehicle you could watch the activities in the park or listen to the Zumbro as it rolled over the dam and bounced down the rock rapids below the station.

We stopped at the first available pump, and I rolled the windows down a little on each side because the sun was shining and I didn’t want Thomas to get hot if Jake and I were inside too long. After I finished pumping the gas, I joined Jake inside and found him catching up on the local news with a number of friends who were in the store. I was glad I let the windows down as Jake spent several more minutes talking with his friends and giving them the traditional Minnesota good-bye.

When we went back outside, we found three well-dressed men at the pickup talking to Thomas. This was not unusual; Thomas is a social dog and always manages to get someone’s attention while he waits in the pickup. As we approached the vehicle, however, we could hear Thomas growling at the men. One of the men was sticking something in through the open window and then pulling it back out. Thomas growled again, which made the men laugh. This happened twice as we walked to the pickup. Jake was upset and hollered at the men to stop. Startled, they all turned around at the same time. All three were in business suits and appeared to be in their thirties. As we approached, I expected them to apologize for teasing Thomas. They were all eating beef jerky and had been teasing Thomas with their jerky sticks. To my surprise, one of them made a comment about Thomas needing to be taught some manners. The comment inflamed Jake. I tugged at his elbow before he could unleash a verbal lashing, and he backed off. Pretending I didn’t see them teasing our dog, I told the men that Thomas just thought they wanted to share their beef jerky. One of the men then apologized, and all three stepped into a black Suburban and drove off toward the Hubbell House.

As Jake and I climbed into the truck, Jake said, “If they’re going to come to our country, they better learn some manners themselves.”

“You don’t think they’re from the U.S., huh?” I asked.

“Not with those accents,” Jake said.

I pointed out that thousands of people with similar accents lived in the area, most of them working at the Mayo Clinic. People from around the world moved their families to this area to get a chance to work at the prestigious clinic. Jake gave me a Thomas growl and then smiled and said he wasn’t going to let the incident ruin the night. We drove up the street and parked in front of The Chocolate Shoppe. Now Thomas was excited. He recognized The Chocolate Shoppe because he and I have shared many ice cream cones sitting on the bench in front of the shop. I would eat the first half of the cone, and he would take care of the rest.

We opened the doors, and Thomas jumped out of the pickup and hopped up on the bench to wait for his ice cream cone. He couldn’t believe it when Jake and I walked past the bench. He jumped off the bench and started to follow us, always just a step behind Jake. As we walked along the front side of the Hubbell House, we finalized the entrance plan. I would go in first and get the attention of people in the area as I walked toward the bar. Jake and Thomas would be seconds behind me and slide into the first available booth. I was getting nervous. I was worried that if Don caught us with Thomas he might ban me from the Hubbell House. We were soon at the side door, and I made my entrance. This was going to be easier than I thought; as I walked in, I saw that everyone was engrossed in what was happening on the TV screens situated at the other end of the Saloon. Jake and Thomas made it to the booth without any problems. We ordered drinks and three orders of the Seafood Melt.

Thomas was so well behaved while he waited patiently on the floor at the back of the booth. I have to believe he knew exactly what was transpiring. The server came back with another place setting, and Jake and I both looked at each other thinking she was on to us. Then she said that she assumed we were waiting for someone since we ordered three Melts. We explained that we liked the Melt so much that one wasn’t enough and we were splitting the third. The server smiled.

I should have taken care of things at home, but I didn’t and now I had to go to the bathroom. The Saloon was getting crowded, so I went through the Ramsey Room to get to the bathrooms. As I walked by the Greeley Room, I noticed a well-dressed man and woman standing in the entrance. They were obviously there to control access to the room. This happened whenever a high-profile celebrity was dining at the Hubbell House. Without the added security, the celebrity would have to contend with other diners lining up at the celebrity’s table for autographs. I wondered who was in the room but didn’t spend a lot of thought on it; I was sure I would find out before we finished dining. On my way back to the Saloon, I couldn’t help but notice two men who were dining in the Ramsey Room and were wearing Tommy Bahama shirts. They caught my eye because one man had on a shirt identical to one I had purchased last month. Nancy didn’t like the shirt, but now I felt redeemed knowing that someone else had purchased one as well.

I got back to our table just in time. Our order had arrived, and Jake was quickly cutting the bread on one plate into fourths. Thomas smelled the Melts and had started his low volume growl. Jacob held the first piece of bread under the table, and it was immediately consumed. I started to eat fast because Thomas only had fifteen pieces to go and then Jake and I would have to share our orders. I knew this meal was going to be over quick, and we would soon be driving home complimenting Thomas on how well behaved he had been.

Then I looked up and realized that something we should have planned for, but didn’t, was about to happen. Don, the owner, always moves from room to room making sure every table is taken care of, and he frequently stops to visit with the customers. He had just come out of the Ramsey Room and into the Saloon and was headed straight for our table. Thomas was still quietly hidden from sight under the booth, but I was more concerned that Thomas would recognize Don’s voice. Thomas usually remembers someone he meets, especially someone who feeds him. Don and his wife have been guests at our home on several occasions. During the year, we have parties celebrating St. Patrick’s Day, Syttende Mai, and Oktoberfest. Nancy is of Irish heritage, and I’m part Norwegian and part German. So we celebrate all of the ethnic holidays that apply. Most people haven’t heard of Syttende Mai, which is Norwegian Independence Day (the seventeenth of May) and just like our Fourth of July. The parties are Minnesota potluck, so most people bring a dish to share, but not Don. He brings a deep stainless steel tray full of a Hubbell House secret recipe to each event. It’s a food item that has never been served to customers at the Hubbell House. In fact, it was only made for the staff until Don started bringing it to our house. That’s how Don and Thomas became buddies.

Thomas had learned in Lincoln at the boys’ parties the fine art of begging for food. Thomas and Barabbas seldom ate dog food in college because of their steady diet of pizza. Thomas has two approaches to getting food out of someone. He starts with the starving puppy act. While someone is going through the buffet line, he will lay down at their feet, pretending he doesn’t have the energy to stand. He will start to whimper and then raise his head to make eye contact with the person who usually succumbs and gives him something from the table. If that doesn’t work, he goes into the incredible trick dog act, which entails standing on his hind legs and dancing in a circle. At this point, the person who didn’t give into the starving puppy charade will be so amused that he will reward Thomas’s dancing performance with an enticing tidbit. Either way, Thomas gets what he wants. That is until Thomas encountered Don.

Having witnessed Thomas’s act with other guests, Don knew what Thomas was up to and told him, “no.” At this point, Thomas wasn’t sure what to do, so he started treating Don the way he treated Jacob when Jacob was cooking or eating. Thomas went to the side of the room out of Don’s way, and then sat down, positioning himself like a statue, but keeping constant eye contact with Don. Thomas didn’t make a sound because he knew Don would think he was acting. Thomas was being so polite, staying out of the way and not making any noise, that Don finally rewarded him by setting down a small plate of the secret recipe in front of Thomas. Not wanting to act too anxious, Thomas slowly rose and started to eat, eventually licking the plate clean. This process became a ritual between Don and Thomas at all of our parties.

I could only hope that Thomas would not recognize Don’s voice tonight, but my hope was quickly dashed. As soon as Don started talking, I could feel Thomas move over my feet. Jacob sneaked another piece of Melt under the table, and I felt Thomas move back to his original position. After Don greeted us, I asked him about the occupants in the Greeley Room, telling him I had seen the bodyguards at the room’s entrance. Don said, “They’re not bodyguards; they’re Secret Service agents. We’ve got the president of Iraq here tonight. It’s his second time at the Hubbell House.” I remembered reading in the paper last summer about the president’s visit.

The Secret Service never lets the restaurant know they are coming. They will visit a restaurant a few days in advance without revealing their identity. If they are satisfied with the layout of the facility, they will make a reservation for six to eight people and then the day of the event change the reservation to the correct number of people. I asked Don how many were in the group, and he said twenty-two. “Wow,” I said, “That’s larger than normal, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but several family members and a number of aides are accompanying the president on his trip to the clinic this time.”

“The two I saw at the door don’t appear old enough to be Secret Service agents to me.”

Don laughed. “Hank, everyone appears too young to you.”

As Don continued to talk, I felt Thomas cross over my feet again, except this time he ignored the piece of Melt Jake was waving under the table. My heart rate started to increase, and I thought about this being my last meal at the Hubbell House.

Don didn’t see Thomas slink out from under the booth, but many of the patrons did. As Don continued to talk to Jacob about Colorado, I looked across the Saloon and saw many people pointing at Thomas. I expected Thomas to bark to get Don’s attention, but instead he was standing on his hind legs right beside Don. Thomas had his nose in the air and was continuing to stand on two legs shifting back and forth from facing the Ramsey Room entrance and the lobby entrance. The noise level in the Saloon was rising as more and more people noticed Thomas. Don turned around to see what was causing the disturbance. At first I think he thought they were pointing at him, until he looked down and saw Thomas. Don was shocked to see the dog and just said, “Thomas.”

To my surprise, Thomas ignored Don’s greeting. Instead, he was focused on the entrance to the Ramsey Room. He stretched high and put his nose up one more time. I was wondering what scent he had picked up, when he lowered his nose, dropped stiffly onto all four legs, and stared directly into the Ramsey Room. I knew that look and quickly tried to grab him, but Thomas took off at full speed for the Ramsey Room. As I was scrambling out of the booth, I heard Don yelling behind me, “Thomas, Thomas.” We both gave chase, following Thomas to the middle of the Ramsey Room. Thomas had stopped to look for the source of the scent. He identified his target at the other end of the room and sprinted for it. I looked up to see what he was after and couldn’t believe my eyes. It was two of the well-dressed men from the gas station. They were walking toward the entrance to the Greeley Room, but had stopped when Thomas started barking. I realized they must be Secret Service agents working with the two agents I had seen earlier. I knew this was not going to end well. Thomas usually has such good manners and doesn’t do anything improper, except if you treat him unfairly or tease him. If Thomas feels he has been wronged, he reverts to his canine instincts. His lips flare open to expose his teeth, and he begins to snarl. Only God could save anyone from the wrath of Thomas once he’s reached this point. I couldn’t help but wonder what the penalty was for attacking a federal agent.

I could hear the vicious snarls as I ran as fast as I could to try and catch Thomas before he reached the agents. I made a desperation dive for Thomas, but just as I did that, he leaped toward one of the agents and grabbed the agents sport coat with his little mouth and bit firmly into the fabric. As the agent tried to free himself from Thomas, who was now swinging back and forth as he continued to hang from the agent’s coat by his teeth, the agent’s gun in his shoulder harness was exposed. I started to worry that he might shoot Thomas, but my thoughts were interrupted when someone shouted, “GUN!” It was the woman agent I had seen earlier. I started to get up, but was pushed to the floor by one of the men in the Tommy Bahama shirts. He had his knee on my back and a gun to the back of my head. The other Tommy Bahama guy and the man and woman agent I had seen at the beginning of the evening all had guns pointed at the two men from the gas station. I had always thought the secret service agents dressed in suits, but these Tommy Bahama guys were definitely agents. Another agent, an older man rushed out of the Greeley Room with his gun pulled as well. He was obviously in charge and started giving instructions to the other agents. Throughout all of this, Thomas never lost focus on the ultimate goal: the beef jerky.

As the agents were shouting for the two men, who I now knew were not Secret Service agents, to keep their hands in the air, Thomas was snarling and growling and eventually ripped open the pocket of the man’s suit coat, causing the beef jerky sticks to fall out onto the floor. As the agents finished handcuffing the two men, they turned their focus on me, not knowing what my involvement was. Don was trying to convince them that I was from Mantorville, but they didn’t care where I was from. Jacob had followed Don and me into the room and was unbelievably calm, as if this was just another adventure with Thomas. Neither Don nor I were making headway in convincing the agents that I was not a part of the assassination attempt, so Jacob finally broke his silence and yelled, “He was only trying to catch Thomas.”

Then all the agents said in unison, “Who’s Thomas?”

Don pointed at Thomas and said, “The little black dog.” All eyes turned on Thomas, who was in the process of eating the beef jerky sticks from the man’s suit coat.

As Thomas chewed on one of the sticks, the older agent said, “That dog could be eating evidence.”

Another male agent shouted, “Shoot the dog.”

“No!” I struggled but was pushed back to the floor.

Just then the female agent picked up Thomas and turned to the other agents and said, “No one is shooting this little hero; he’s the one who saved the president’s life and our lives as well. If this little black dog hadn’t gone after the beef sticks, I would not have seen the gun.”

At this point another man in a suit came out of the Greeley Room. He spoke in English with a strong accent similar to the accent we heard from the other men at Casey’s. This new man, who was being addressed by the agents as Mr. Kelkan, walked over to the two men in cuffs and identified one of the men as an assassin who had sworn to take the life of the president. As I thought about the encounter at Casey’s, I yelled, “There’s a third man; I saw these two with another man at the gas station.”

The older agent asked me what he looked like and I said, “He looks just like these guys, dressed in a suit. They were driving a black Suburban.” The older agent held his left hand to his left ear and starting giving instructions to look for a man in a black Suburban. He was obviously communicating with someone outside.

We all waited as, a few moments later, the head agent received another message through his earpiece. “Good job, now find the man.” He turned to the other agents and said, “We have the Suburban, but we haven’t found a third man.” He then looked at me and said, “That’s assuming there is a third man.”

Don was still trying to get them to release me, as was Jacob. Thomas could have cared less about me. He didn’t sense I was in trouble because Jake was so calm. And besides, Thomas was still being cradled in the arms of the woman agent, and she was allowing him to eat the beef jerky. They hadn’t cuffed me yet, and the agents were debating whether they should release me. That’s when the sheriff walked in. Sheriff Howard Lehr and I had been friends for years, but before I could say anything, the agent in charge pulled Howard off to the side and started talking to him. After a brief exchange, which involved several glances in my direction and much head nodding from Howard, the two approached me. The head agent directed   the Tommy Bahama agent to release me. Howard pointed to the agent in charge, “Hank, this is Agent Morken, and he has agreed to release you after I assured him you would have no reason to assist these other men in their effort to assassinate the president of Iraq.”

 “You’ve got that right,” I said, as Howard held out a hand and helped me up.

“Just following procedure, Mr. Thorson,” Agent Morken said. “We had to make sure you weren’t involved.”

Like I was going to live all my life in Mantorville on the rare chance I might someday get to take down the president of Iraq in the local restaurant. But I understood the agents were just doing their jobs, and I told them so. Agent Morken nodded then turned and started giving orders to take the two men in cuffs outside. Howard offered to have his deputies escort the arrested men to the county jail, but Agent Morken politely declined the assistance and said that his agents would be taking the men to a federal facility. Agent Morken then turned to the young woman and said, “Agent Charles, return the dog to Mr. Thorson.”

Agent Charles started to walk toward me, but then Jake stepped forward and said, “This Mr. Thorson.” She smiled at Jake and handed Thomas to him. When they were standing next to each other, I could see that she was close to Jake’s age. Jake is twenty-three, and she looked like she was in her mid-twenties. She was still holding two sticks of beef jerky and handed those to Jake as well, which Thomas was happy to see.

Agent Morken then said, “Agent Charles, please assist Agent Schultz with the president.”

Agent Charles said, “Yes, sir,” then smiled at Jake and exited into the Greeley Room.

I looked at Howard and asked if we could leave, but before Howard could respond, Agent Morken said, “Yes, you may leave.”

As I walked through the Ramsey Room, I saw, for the first time, the havoc we had caused. The diners who had evacuated the room as quickly as they could, had left overturned tables and chairs as well as menus, handbags, and food strewn about the floor. The diners and servers were starting to re-enter the room, and Don was instructing them to assemble at the back of the room. He then told the customers their dinner tonight was on the Hubble House. If they hadn’t finished dining, he invited them to one of the other rooms for dinner. He also told each of them that their next visit would be on the house as well. Don then asked the servers to help their guests to another table and to issue gift certificates to them for their next visit.

Now I was really feeling bad, we had not only disrupted the evening for so many people, but we had cost the Hubbell House a great deal to straighten out the mess. I motioned to Jake to go back to the Saloon. As we walked in, we found it was standing room only. There had apparently been a lot of law enforcement activity outside, which drew everyone in the downtown area into the Saloon. Our booth was filled with other people, so I turned to Jake and said, “Let’s get the check. We should just go home,” but just then I felt an arm fall across my shoulder. I turned to see that it was Don. I thought, “He’s going to strangle me,” but he gave me a big hug instead. He then hugged Jake and actually kissed Thomas on the face. I started to apologize, but Don stopped me.

“What are you talking about? No apology necessary. Don’t you realize what would have happened if you hadn’t brought Thomas here? There would have been a blood bath with the president, the Secret Service, and many of my customers and employees shot.”

“But look at the mess we made and all the meals you’ve had to give away.”

Don said, “It was the least I could do. These customers just experienced a very exciting evening. In fact, for many of them, it was the most exciting time in their life. I just wanted to make sure they would leave with a favorable memory of their experience.” Don glanced over my shoulder. “You better get ready for interviews. You’re going to have a lot of them; Thomas, too.” Don then took us to the center of the Saloon where we found an empty table with a reserved sign on it and a server standing at the end of the table to make sure it stayed reserved. The server asked if we wanted the usual, to which Jake nodded yes and I said, “You betcha.” Don ordered a drink for himself and a bowl of water for Thomas.

As we were sitting down, silence came over the noisy crowd. Don stood and addressed the crowd, “I’m sure you have all heard what happened tonight and you all know Hank and Jake Thorson.” Then everyone who wasn’t standing already stood up and gave Jake and me a standing ovation. Then Jake and I stood up and gave a slight embarrassed bow. As the noise subsided, Don got the crowd’s attention again and said, “Now I would like to introduce tonight’s hero, Thomas Thorson.” Everyone looked mystified as Don reached under the table and pulled Thomas away from his bowl and held him up in the air. The crowd roared, and Don shifted Thomas to his left hand and grabbed his drink from the table with his other hand. Then Don raised his glass and yelled, “To Thomas.” Everyone in the Saloon raised their glasses to Thomas and took a drink. Thomas sensed the festive mood and started to bark, acknowledging the attention he was receiving. As things settled down, I could hear people talking. Most had heard earlier in the evening that someone named Thomas had saved the president’s life, but most of them incorrectly thought that Thomas was my son. They had no idea that Thomas was a dog.

We were half way through the drinks when Agent Charles appeared and invited us back to the Greeley Room to meet President Talabani. How could we refuse? As we walked through the now empty Ramsey Room to the Greeley Room, Agent Charles explained that they were keeping the president at the Hubbell House until they found the third man or were sure he had fled the area. She said that the other agents and the sheriff’s department were searching the area around the Hubbell House but were confident the third man had left the area. As the president was getting ready to leave, he and everyone else in the Greeley Room heard the commotion from the Saloon and wanted to know what was happening. She said, “When the president found out it was the noise of a celebration, he wanted to join all of you, but Agent Morken wouldn’t allow him to leave the Greeley Room. So the president requested an opportunity to meet you in his room before he departed.”

As we entered, we were greeted by Mr. Kelkan, who introduced himself as the president’s chief of staff. He took us to the back of the room and introduced us to President Talabani. The president was cordial to Jake and me, but he was really excited to meet Thomas, who was being held by Jake. Thomas could have cared less who he was meeting and was actually staring at his new friend, Agent Charles, as the president continued to pet Thomas and scratch his belly. Then suddenly, Thomas stood up in Jacob’s arms and held his nose in the air. The Greeley Room is next to the kitchen, so I thought he was smelling Seafood Melts, but next, Thomas put his head down and started to snarl, surprising the president who began backing away from Thomas. Jacob lost his hold as Thomas began to wiggle and leaped to the floor, heading straight for a dark corner of the room, barking and snarling all the way. One of the young men standing in the back of the room took off running for the door as Thomas approached him. The man didn’t make it to the door. Instead, he ran into Howard, who threw him against the wall, cuffed him, and searched him, before declaring, “No weapon.” At this point, everyone in the room realized that Thomas had just found the third man. Agent Morken ordered two of the agents in the room to remove the third man and arrange for transport.

The president thanked us again, and Agent Charles escorted us back into the Ramsey Room. She told us that Thomas had just answered an outstanding question, “How did the assassins know the president would be dining at the Hubbell House?” It was now obvious that the young aide was a collaborator and the inside source of the president’s itinerary. We said good-bye to Agent Charles, and she returned to the Greeley Room.

I told Jake I had had enough excitement for one night and suggested we skip more celebrations in the Saloon and go straight home instead. To my surprise, Jake was ready to go home, too. We avoided the Saloon by exiting through the lobby where we ran into my cousin Terry being interviewed by the local television stations and the Post Bulletin newspaper, all from Rochester. Although Terry’s title at O’Reilly Truck was director of human resources, he frequently took on other roles. Tonight he had made himself the voice of O’Reilly and was enjoying the attention of the media. To listen to him, you would think that O’Reilly Truck had saved the president tonight. He practically made Thomas an O’Reilly vice president. Terry’s interview came to an abrupt end when one of the reporters spotted Thomas in Jake’s arms. Terry was left alone in the corner while the reporters encircled Jake and Thomas. The youngest reporter in the group was so invested in the story that she actually asked Thomas a serious question and held a microphone to his mouth expecting an answer. But Thomas was done for the day. Rather than barking “No comment,” he just turned away and laid his head on Jake’s shoulder.

As we drove home, I looked at Thomas and thought about how special he was. Tonight he had again demonstrated how a chance encounter or event can have a profound effect on our lives if we have enough faith to follow our instincts and the courage to take actions based on those instincts. He had saved a lot of lives tonight. He had done this because he felt wronged by evil men. Thomas had tried to befriend the men when we were at the gas station, but the men chose to treat Thomas with disrespect. If the evil men had treated Thomas with respect, they probably would have been able to kill many people tonight. Thank God, their character had shown through to Thomas. And thank God, Thomas followed his instincts and had the courage to act upon them.

The next morning Jake and Thomas left for Colorado as planned. They pulled out of the drive just before the television trucks started pulling up at the farm wanting more interviews and video of Thomas. I explained that Thomas and Jake were off to college, but I refused to say where. Apparently portions of the previous night’s interviews made it on to the network and cable morning news shows. The networks wanted more video of Thomas, but they weren’t going to get it.

Later that night, the cable news shows weighed in on the story with different opinions of Thomas’s activities at the Hubbell House. MSNBC dwelled on the fact that Thomas was at the Hubbell House illegally, while FOX News’ Bill O’Reilly called Thomas a patriot.

A few weeks after the big event, I was sitting at the bar of the Hubbell House Saloon. Having just finished my salad, I was ready to start on the chicken strips when Don sat down next to me. He told me that his business had increased quite a bit because of all the publicity. His only problem was the Ramsey and Greeley rooms couldn’t hold the increased demand; apparently, everyone wanted to be seated in the room where Thomas caught the assassins.

Then Don said something I couldn’t believe. He asked if I could bring Thomas to dinner at the Hubbell House whenever he was home for a visit. I told him I didn’t think that was a good idea. “If I started bringing Thomas here, other dog owners would want to bring their dogs to the Hubbell House, too. It would be hard for you to say no to them if you allowed Thomas to come in. Besides, the state health department would not want Thomas in the restaurant.”

“Don’t worry,” Don said with a smile. “I have all of that covered. Thomas will be the only dog allowed in the Hubbell House, and it will be fine with the state.”

“How did you accomplish that?”

Don pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to me. The envelope was from the United States Secret Service and was addressed to Don at the Hubbell House. I pulled three pages out of the envelope and read the short message on the first page asking Don to forward the following pages to Hank Thorson and Thomas. The next page was a letter addressed to me, thanking Thomas and me for the assistance and cooperation we gave the agents last month. The final page was an official certificate designating Thomas as a “Service Canine of the United States Secret Service.”

“See,” Don said, “now Thomas can legally visit the Hubbell House, regardless of what cable news might say.”

As I finished visiting with Don, I agreed that the next time Thomas was in Mantorville, I would bring him to the Hubbell House for a visit and a photo shoot. On my way home, I called Jake, “Guess what? You’re now living with an official member of the United States Secret Service.”