over to the sleeping bag and lay down. Joe started to sing again and soon I was dead to the world with the ceiling spinning around.
The next morning I woke up with a killer head ache. I was hung over and had a thirst like a dry camel in the desert. The rain was pounding on the metal roof driving my head pain to a place I’ve never before experienced. My new master, Joe, was snoring so loud all I wanted to do was run away. The way I figured it I had two choices: take off in the rain and find a new place to live; or stick it out with my present situation.
I closed my eyes again and covered my ears with my paws. A couple hours later between dozes Joe woke up I stared into his beat red eyes. His eyes were friendly so I wagged my tail and he reached out gave my throbbing head a rough tussle. The door stood half way open so I went out to relieve myself. I hurried as the rain was coming down like cats and dogs. Joe got up and followed my example.
He had an old Clorox bottle full of drinking water and he lit the candle to warm himself some water for tea. From an old soup can he had cut out the top and bottom and placed it over the candle. He then placed two spoons cross ways over the top and in a tin cup heated some water. I was amazed and impressed with his creativeness. While the water was warming up he dug into the now four day old donut box and brought out the cream filled ones. He gave me one and ate the other one. The sugar rush came on as my hangover started to recede. From high protein dog food to a sugar diet in less than three days took its toll on me. I secretly thought and hoped my recent fluoride treatment at the vets would combat the heavy dose of sugar I was relegated to these days. I sat looking at Joe as he drank his tea.
Joe said, ‘Well my friend, what should we do now. Its raining hard and we need to find some food. If I’m not mistaken it’s Sunday and later today the all you can eat places will have some left over food to throw out. What say you to we amble on over to a place I know about three o’clock and see what we can rustle up?’
I wolfed a yes and wagged my tail. While we waited he dug out an old deck of cards and played solitaire. I noticed he cheated once in awhile, but I like his singing. I napped most of the day until it was time to go.
I followed my Joe to the restaurant. He talked to me all the way there. He told me his plan. He said, ‘Blackie,’ he earlier read my dog tag; ‘we hit the place when lunch changes to dinner and they make fresh food. They throw out a lot of good stuff. I have some bags in my pocket and we'll be in and out in no time. Watch and learn my friend.’
Hidden around the corner from the restaurant’s back door, Joe watched and waited. He looked at his wrist where a watch should be and said, ‘It’s about time now.’
He reached into his torn pocket and fingered his sacks. I too was peering around the corner through his legs as the back door opened and a young kid carrying a heavy sack came out dragging it on the cement. It was too heavy to toss in the dumpster, which I noted was the old style with space underneath for me, so he leaned it against the dumpster and lit a smoke. He sucked on the stick like there was no tomorrow and flipped it down and hurried back through the door. Joe was off like shot. Tore open the sack and like a dog burying a bone, food flew everywhere. Not three minutes went by and he was back with two sacks full of food. We made our way back to the condo just as the rain quit.
Now I know my manners from my pervious master and shook myself off before entering our home. Joe sat the sacks on the table and took his coat off to reveal another coat underneath. He then pulled a wooden crate up to the table opposite him and laid out the goodies. I could smell the chicken and bits of meat. I waited until told to eat before chowing down. Joe nodded the go ahead we both dug in smacking our lips on the juicy chicken and meat. No words were spoken until we both had finished, me licking my paws and Joe licking his fingers. He gave out a big belch and I passed some gas.
We both took a Sunday afternoon nap after dinner. I woke up first to the sounds of birds chirping and then Joe stirred. By now we were buddies sleeping side to side. I tried to get up but Joe’s big arm lay across me. I finally dug my way out and went outside to just catch the sun dipping down over the west. I went around marking my territory and while I was doing that, Joe came out and let loose with a powerful stream of his own. Back in the condo Joe dug around and pulled out a fresh bottle of Raspberry Ripple. My drinking cup lay where I left it and he filled it up to the top. I looked up at Joe’s smiling face and threw caution to the wind and lapped up the sweet wine. Joe took a big pull and started singing some religious songs. He told me he was from the Deep South and his momma taught him these songs. I liked them and after a can or two I joined him doing my best to hit the high notes. An hour later I staggered to bed. Joe called me a light weight and finished the bottle and who knows, maybe another one too.
The next morning I couldn’t raise my head off the sleeping bag. I felt sick and struggled to the door and just made the bushes before a red stream of whatever exited my jaws. I lay on the ground mad at the noisy birds of the early morning singing songs. If I had been a cat their days would have been numbered, however, I was a dog and I was sicker than a dog. Everything properly evacuated at both ends I heard Joe coughing up a storm inside the condo. I made my way back in as he sat there red faced coughing into a dirty rag. I thought it was red because of the berry wine, but in fact it was blood. I didn’t know it then, but Joe and I would soon part company.
When Joe quit hacking he looked at me and said, ‘Blackie I’m a dying man. Soon I will meet my maker and see my momma again.’ I wolfed an answer and walked up to him and he petted my head and stroked my back. By now my coat had turned back to the matted look of old, but I was happy living with Joe. My hangover was gone and we divided up the spoils from yesterday. Joe lay back down and I went for a walk. I checked out the neighbor hood and saw many guys like Joe lying around the place on cardboard beds. No one paid me any attention as I slowly walked the depressing place known as skid row.
I scrounged a garbage can and headed back to home. I found Joe in the same place as before. Only now he was cold as a night in December. I sat there and sang a song to him. I stayed the night and in the morning said good bye to my Joe and left the door open and walked out of his life forever.
Two months later I was thin as a rail. Winter was not nice to me. Everyday I had to find food and a place to sleep out of the nasty cold and now snowy weather. I was just about all in and if there had been a bridge I would have jumped to end it all. As it was no bridge high enough could be found in my city.
In weather like this nobody pay any attention to a homeless dog. Even the dog catcher could be seen holed up in a coffee shop shooting the breeze with a tired old waitress who had heard the same story time and time again. I walked and walked and soon found myself in a familiar place. It was a cold windy afternoon as I stopped at the vet’s door. I flashed back on my days of old being taken care of here. I was plum worn out and felt dizzy from lack of food.
The next thing I knew was waking up in a warm place on a table with a steel pole hanging next to me with a bottle dripping down a tube into a hole in my side. I felt no pain and drifted back to sleep. Who knows how long it was but when I woke up next, mother and Gloria were standing next to me. ‘He’s awake now doctor,’ Gloria said with a smile on her face.
The vet came over and shown a light in my twitchy eye and said, ‘He’s just malnourished and with time he will come back to his old self.’
Now, I was totally confused. Why would anyone, especially the mother of my girlfriend care about me after what I did to her poodle? It was beyond me, but I soon overheard them talking about me. It seems while I was getting my teeth cleaned the girl noticed I had a tattoo number in my lip. That number is in case someone contests the authenticity of the dog registration. Come to find out I was a special registered canine worth a lot of money. The teeth cleaner had thought I was lost and her owner, Gloria and her mother found me hit by a car. She didn’t know I was a stray cast away dog about town. I still was curious as to why they were fussing over me until th
e full story was told.
After the pups were born mother saw after a few weeks they looked sort of familiar. She looked through her dog book and found the line of my breed and her Standard Poodle. Come to find out they had posted fliers around the city looking for me. It was rare indeed for my breed to mate with a poodle and have the pups survive. I was a hero and didn’t know it. A few weeks later back on my deck with my girlfriend, we both sat there and watched the moon rise over the city.
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