Final Assignment

The Lost ShiTzu

It became the bitterly cold winter of 1998. For the last week in December it rained with the temperature hovering around 33 degrees; there had been no snow at Christmas but the slush build up was beginning to solidify as the temperature dropped and the new year approached. Outside my studio on 41st there were huge ruts slowly hardening of what had once been thick slush building layer upon extended layer as the city busses cruised by every half hour of the night and day. What was developing were more like four bobsled tracks of ice in both lanes, as the temperature slowly dropped over several days under gray gloomy skies. The huge city buses sledded the streets and skated around corners: light cars proceeded with dire dread and caution under the conditions. City plows weren’t out yet as a snow emergency hadn’t been declared.
. The sidewalk in front of my unit was kept clear of snow, sleet and ice by my landlord: he owned the Suds Yer Duds Laundromat next door. The owner Nathan kept it safe and accessible for his customers applying crushed rock salt several times a day; but it was dangerous and slippery as hell. I dropped in and out of the laundry several times a day for a soda occasionally to suds my duds. It was growing dark by 4:30 under heavy clouds. We hadn’t seen the sun for two weeks. I was out of project work in the temporary data entry business after working nearly ten years for Quorum and, waiting to hear the news on several job applications I had submitted over the last few months
One evening during those weather conditions as I was slipping and sliding over to the laundry for a breather and a soda, I noticed a lump of gray sludge with two shiny orbs the size of quarters flashing in the lights, bobbing up and down in the rut closest to the curb: it was unrecognizable except for the movement. But the motion caught my attention. It was an ugly little image but I ventured closer to see what the thing was.

I was astonished to see the little moving blob was a ‘dog’: of indeterminable breed. Despite being somewhat squeamish about handling and touching such objects I took a step into the sloppy rut and snatched up the dirty little dog which couldn’t have weighed twenty pounds. It was sopping wet, shivering, extremely dirty as I swooped it into my arms; the little guy didn’t struggle a bit as I hauled him into my apartment; he was just glad to be inside, somewhere off the street out the rut. He (or she) reminded me of our Pekinese from the early days from its size and shape.
Drying him off I quickly found was not option because his fir was so thick, I couldn’t begin to dry his thick fur with a towel or hair dryer. When he shook himself vigorously a stench of some degree became more apparent. So my only option was to give him a hot bath: it reminded me of the time I broke through the ice on Whetstone creek: I barely scrambled out of that one and my clothes were frozen solid by the time I got home; mom threw me in the tub. I was still shivering hours later and so was the dirty little dog.

One of the first things I noticed as I was beginning to clean up the little mutt; he was sniffing, but wasn’t tracking any movements of my hands; and made no effort to wander around or explore my studio; like my ex girlfriend’s pesky terrier had in the past.. But he was very attentive to sounds and any words I might say to him; staying as close as he possibly could to me physically but maintaining a respectful distance which suggested he was very accustomed to people treatment. I made a brief examination of the vision of his shiny black eyes that shined like ebony but didn’t seem to have a pupil or a focus. Waving my hands a foot away from his nose, I determined he was stone blind. Strangely blindness did not seem to impair the spirit the little guy: as he warmed up: he became more lively as his energy returned in my studio. Starting standing on hind legs: could spin! In that condition maintaining his balance.

I ran a tubful of warm water and dumped in a cup of Cheer; as the suds built up I continued culling through his thick gray fur that had ice granules within it after a half hour.His skin was warm; but the stench mounted as he dried little by little. As soon as I had six inches of water in the tub I piled him in: he loved his bath immediately. Unlike my horrible cat Sly. They water turned black but the fragrance of the detergent overpowered the odor; he was no longer shivering. As I toweled him down I realized it would take hours for his lush fur to dry down: and that despite it being sopping wet had probably saved his life in the streets. I could only get at the very top layer.

By the end of the cleaning phase I was exhausted: sleep was the only option. The floor of my unit was always cold; so, I had to let him sleep on my bed as he dried off. I will never forget the smell of Cheer wafting through my sleep all night long; but my visitor never moved: I don’t recall letting him out to do his thing: he probably hadn’t or drunk eaten anything for three days. Next a.m. that occurred to me; so, I set him up with some water in the double dish bowl and poured him some Friskies left over from my last cat; he was back to normal! Sprightly, friendly and cheerful as hell. I couldn’t believe the transformation.
By six that next morning the temperature had dropped below zero and was predicted to hit minus twenty. The ruts of slush on 42nd had turned to luge tracks. Nothing moved except the busses. Later in the day I walked my visitor over to the laundry where a few patrons were sitting around the dryers. Before long I was showing him off for the performer he was: he could stand and balance on his hind paws on cue (I have no idea how he saw them): incredibly he could spin completely around as I clicked my fingers: asking if anybody knew whose dog this was (?) Nobody did. I wrote out a little message and posted it on the bulletin board:
“Lost and Found: small gray dog on 41st BLIND! Call this number
724-0000”
Frankly it was a bleak scenario: the dog was apparently abandoned; we weren’t supposed to have pets in our units; no one would claim a dog in that condition and so on. I called the caretaker and informed him of the situation: he said we can deal with it for the time being anyway, under the conditions. I am a cat not a dog lover: what’s up with that?
The rest of the day I spent writing letters, applying for jobs and contacting my and several other temp agencies, as my visitor reclined upon my bed: but he wasn’t sleeping; I could just feel he was missing something or somebody. Despite my concerns I realized I wasn’t meeting his needs, by that evening his spirits were noticeably declining. He had only nibbled his food; and lapped a little water from his dish. I let him out once before crashing on night two; but it was so cold he didn’t spend more than a minute at his duties. Again he slept on my bed, kind of whimpering all night long.

Approximately 8:30 on day three of the crisis; temperature hovering at 10 below my morning routine of reading the sports and scanning the job openings for reserve teachers, data entry people, maintenance: you name it the phone rang to life; it was the caretaker..

“Hello Mike we found the dog’s owner; I know him; he’s the old guy who sometimes comes around to read the paper; no phone no car lives about a block away down the alley; said he must have left the gate open and the dog wandered off. This is like the greatest event in his life to know the dog survived the blizzard he told me to call you. I’ll go get him in my Jeep and meet you at the laundry in a half hour. Okay?

Was it ok? It was a supernatural event of the cosmic consciousness if you ask me: a lost sheep being restored, saved for its owner at the very least; a three day drama approaching the final scene; and there had been a few in front of the Laundromat: robberies, murders assaults, drug use, vagrancy: nothing like this. It took me twenty minutes to strap on three layers of insulation from the brutal weather; the little critter was lying sadly on my hideaway bed staring into his lost back yard; and the fence that protected him perhaps; as I scooped her up and headed for the laundry she was never more comfortable than being in my arms; accustomed to somebody carrying it along.

I could see Pat’s Jeep pouring out white smoke in the sub zero temps: I recognized the old guy from his crushed gray farmer hat; yes I had seen him before buying a paper from the machine outside the laundry. He stepped gingerly out of the front seat as I walked up beside the truck; with tears in his eyes he accepted my offering of his dog back:as I handed the dog into his arms; that man was in nirvana.

“Can I offer you a reward?” he asked me.
“No but you can say a prayer for me” I said.

“I’ll do that” he said

The next day at ten a.m I received a call from my agency: they had a job offer for me and it could lead to permanent full time. I didn’t hesitate long in accepting the proffer.

Several weeks after I started working my job; I was having lunch with my co-worker Tony Palacino (he said that means ‘palace guard’ in Italian!) Ex Viet Nam marine corporal, Roman Catholic; he was a tough graying soldier who loved to tell little stories about his beloved pet; who he considered a valued member of the family; especially now that his son would be graduating from Spring Lake Park High School and moving to California to live with his sister; and find a job in L.A.
“That dog loves me as much as my son, my wife, maybe more; last night he woke me up from my nap on the couch after supper by licking, tickling my toes” he continued on with several more anecdotes before I contributed my story to the conversation.

“ First of all” I said, “ I don’t advertise it much; men don’t admit it much but I’m really a cat lover; since my last kitty Ruby got run over by the city bus, I haven’t had any pet’s in my studio: but this dog I had around for a while reminds me of yours” I was thinking of the ‘loyalty’ aspect. “You gotta hear this story man” I said as I consumed the usual green chili burrito my everyday lunch consisted of. (re: narration above)

As the final words of the drama dropped from my lips; and, I bit into the last of my green chilies , Tony exclaimed…
“My God man, it’s a good thing you spotted him like that or that dog was dead, if you didn’t grab him up he’s a goner! That’s the way those dogs are -stone blind: all that fuzz and dirt from their thick hair takes their sight away early; that’s the same kind of dog I’ve got. Gray and black: a ShiTzu’s he’s blind as a bat; they go by scent alone. Christ that’s an amazing story”