Seven (Business) Days to Live. You find yourself in a strange town with no money, no food

Transcription

1 Seven (Business) Days to Live Wednesday: You find yourself in a strange town with no money, no food and no place to sleep. No family or friends to call upon for help. You re small. You don t speak the local language or understand the people or their incomprehensible technology. During the day you hide, but even the night is dangerous. Violent gangs and vicious curs prowl the streets and alleys. They would hurt you if they could. Better to stay hidden. But you can t stay still. Your empty stomach aches. Bugs and dirt are matted in your hair, and your entire body itches so badly that you tear your skin when you scratch. How long has it been, you ask yourself, since you slept in a comfortable bed and had a full stomach and a warm bath? Out there never looks safe, but you venture from the drainage culvert anyway, riding the shadows and stepping quickly though the open places. You scavenge through trash because you re afraid to beg. You haven t eaten today, and maybe not since the day before yesterday, and you can t remember because you re focused on what s in front of you and all the things in the dark you can t see but that you know are there waiting to get you. You trust nothing, if there ever was such a thing as trust. All you know besides fear is hunger. It drives you.

2 Thankfully, tonight is your lucky night. You love fried chicken, would dance on a dime and howl at the moon for it. And there it is, big and juicy and all yours for the taking. First, you look around to make sure you re alone and it doesn t take much to convince you everything is just fine. The smell saturates your nostrils and dissolves your caution. You go all in for it. All in. A little more and you got it. But now it s got you. A trap. You can t get out. No matter how hard you try to claw and scrape, you can t get out. You can t get out. Thursday: The next morning a policeman picks up the cage and places you in the back of his car. This is a first for you. You ve never been in trouble before. You re a good dog except, your bladder has gotten weaker as you ve gotten older. You didn t want to pee on the rug, but your master works all day and you have to hold it until he comes home, and you didn t think he would find the stain under the dining table anyway. But he did. And he yelled at you (another first), and then he didn t walk you because after the woman picked up the baby at the sitter, he had to watch it while she went shopping for groceries. He found the poop in the bathroom too (more yelling). There is another cage in the backseat of the police car. Inside it is a huge dog with puffy white fur that looks like cotton balls. You say Hello, but all he does is growl at you.

3 You are taken to a building where a man wearing white rain boots takes you from the cage and straps a leash to your collar. You get your picture taken and then the man places you on a table. A lady in a neatly starched lab coat checks your ears and eyes and looks under your belly. She speaks to the man in a language that you don t understand (although you only understand a few words of your own language like fetch, come, good boy, bad dog). Finally, the lady says a word you understand. Sit. You obey as you ve been taught, and she says, American, and then more words you can t comprehend. A large golden retriever sitting on the floor explains coldly to you, The vet told her technician to record your statistics: boy, neutered, lots of fleas but no issues, take him to GP. What s GP, you ask. General Population, she says. You don t have a clue what that is, so you just say, My name is Frisk, but I also go by Frisky and Goldie snaps at you, You don t have a name. Not anymore. That lettering on the floor next to your feet when they took your picture, that s your designation. You re officially dog S1. That s what will be posted with your picture on their website. Lost Dog, S1.

4 Before you have a chance to tell her you re not lost, that it s all just a misunderstanding, the man takes you off the table and leads you to a room that smells terrible. Goldie follows behind you and tells you to close your eyes, but you don t, and when the man sprays you with the chemicals, some of the vapor gets into your eyes. It stings. You try to wipe it away with your paw, stumbling as the man pulls you away. Goldie says, You need to start listening to me, S1. The man takes you down a long hallway with a green painted floor. He puts you in a room with three other dogs one of them is Cotton, who growls at you when you come inside. A little dog with slick white fur and a square head comes waddling over wagging her tail, and walks around you sniffing your butt. You check her out. She seems ok. The other dog, who looks like a dirty grey mop, stays in the corner by himself, his eyes nervously darting from you to the other dogs to the gated door. Goldie says, Relax. You re safe for now. Goldie seems nice. You even let her stand watch next to you while you doze off and sleep for a little while. You dream of your warm bed at home and a rag doll that you like to play with, and running around the park and catching the Frisbee. Better times. You wake when a man comes inside and places huge bowls of food and water in the middle of the room. Goldie says to wait

5 but you don t listen, and you rush to the food because you re so hungry you could eat dirt. Cotton snaps at you, pinching his teeth into your ear. It hurts, and you jump back, yelping and then the entire building alights with a symphony of barking and crying and growling. Goldie lectures you, I said, wait. Slick goes around to the opposite side of the bowl from Cotton and stands a foot away with her head cowered down. Mop stays in his corner. You listen to Cotton crunching on the food and think nothing will be left, and finally Goldie says, Now. You walk cautiously over to the bowl and stand next to Slick. Cotton stares you down and then he burps real loud and goes to lie down next to the wall. You and Slick dig in on the handful of pebbles left. Mop muddles over and gets a couple of bites before the bowl is empty. You and Slick wrestle for the crumbs, licking and spinning the bowl around the room. It flies into Cotton and he jumps up, mad as heck. Then you scoot over to the corner and lie down on the cold concrete floor, listening as the clamor of voices around you go still and the lights go out and there is nothing else to do but try to sleep. FRIDAY: The morning commotion starts at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, and every dog in the joint acts like they

6 heard it first. You join in because you re pretty sure it was you that heard it first; and that s the most exciting thing of the day. Afterwards, time drags by. The morning meal dilemma with Cotton goes slightly better; he gets his fill and there s more food left in the bowl than the night before. Slick is waiting next to you, and so is Mop on your other side. Around noon, the nicest thing happens. You are taken outside and put inside a fenced area with the dogs from your room and the room next to yours. The man ties Cotton s leash to a stake in the ground. The rest of you get to run free. It s a huge yard, and you play chase with a long dog that has short legs and floppy ears. He s too easy to catch, and he can t catch you and you get bored and sit down, panting. The other dogs seem ok and have some interesting backgrounds. Slick is a French Bulldog. You ask her what the black knots on her chest are and she says, My nipples. Goldie pulls you aside and admonishes you about being an insensitive jerk. She informs you that Slick is a puppy mill dog that has spent her entire life in a cage, only taken out to breed and then left outside the cage only long enough to nurse her puppies until they are old enough to be taken away. She s had so many litters, her nipples are like leather, and a couple have mammary tumors. The store owners abandoned her on a side road. You feel bad.

7 Mop is a Havanese mix. He says he remembers going for a walk with his master and then suddenly being alone; that happened over two months ago. His fur is matted and twisted, and covered with dirt and grime. He has a tick the size of a marble on his neck but is thankful the spray killed the million fleas on his skin. The itching had gotten so bad, he said, that he had seriously considered walking in front of a bus. You ask Goldie how she knows so much about everything, and she just shakes her fur and says she gets around. You notice how she always keeps her distance from you and the other dogs. You ask, You ve been here before, haven t you? She nods her head. Yes. You ask Goldie what kind of dog Cotton is and she replies, Unlucky, like the rest of you. Back inside, as you wait for the next meal, you notice that the workers seem sad today and you ask why. Goldie lays her head on her front paws and says simply, It s Friday. You don t know what that means, but before you can ask, a mechanical noise sounds from down the way, and a rancor of howls and whines bellows from the row of rooms. You watch as two dogs pass by the back gate of your room. Pushed along by a moving wall, they shuffle by and are soon hidden by the wall. You hear a door open and shut and then the wall moves back. You ask Goldie what happened, and she just shakes her head.

8 Tuesday: The weekend flew by as did Monday. After breakfast, a woman comes by your room and looks inside. You ask Goldie who she is. She says, That s Kate. She s an angel. Go up to her and lick her hand, show her that you re friendly. Mop and Slick are already at the gate, begging for attention. You mosey over and wag your tail, but you keep your distance. She says, Come here boy, and you recognize the words and obey. She scratches your ears and chin and calls you a good dog, and you feel loved again. You glance back at Cotton. He looks angry, as always. Goldie keeps her distance, as always. Another lady comes by in the afternoon and she s nice too. Thursday: Yard day came again on Wednesday. That was a good day. You met some new dogs. Cotton left plenty of food in the bowl. Today, Kate came by in the morning and took Mop and Slick. Goodie told you not to worry, Kate can only do so much, and you made a good impression on the lady from the other adoption agency. Friday:

9 All the humans are wearing sad faces again. It must be Friday, you think. The back gate of your room rises and all the dogs in the building start barking. You start yelping too as the front gate begins to move to the back, pushing you out into a corridor. Down the way, a wall begins moving toward you. You and Cotton and Goldie are forced back. A door at the end of the corridor opens and the wall pushes you inside a small room. The door shuts as the wall moves away. You re alarmed, your legs fixed in place like a statue. Cotton is restless, stalking around the room, sniffing at the edges of the walls. Goldie says, It ll be ok, Frisk, and the calmness in her voice makes you feel better. You hear a click, and then a light fog begins to seep from vents in the ceiling. It smells like burnt air, and irritates your nose and eyes. You feel faint and collapse to your knees. It hurts to breath. Cotton is on his side now, his legs twitching like he s chasing a rabbit. Goldie says, Don t fight it, Frisk. It ll be ok. You ll be free soon, just like me. You watch as she fades from your sight, and then you close your eyes and you go to sleep. END