Sunday, March 15, 2015


I spent all day walking around town, tacking flyers onto telephone poles like I was living in the 1990's. I also posted an ad online, but figured anyone who would be dumb enough to have a white pit bull as a pet probably wouldn't have a hefty internet presence. I found the dog when I was on my way home from The Church of Faith last night, where I had returned hoping to find some kind of wisdom, a commodity hard to locate in a world as messy as mine.

The poor guy was walking on the sidewalk, and maybe it was just his pit bull look, but his eyes appeared sad. Then again, maybe that was me. But I don't think so. I saw he had a collar and assumed he was safe to touch. He smelled like cigarettes, which was probably a good sign. At least he wasn't completely alone in life. 

I brought him in my apartment despite the rule prohibiting pets or pests of any kind. People break the pests rule all the time. Fast forward to today. I finished up posting the flyers and dragged the dog along behind me all the way back home. Luckily, I wasn't home long before my phone rang. It was the dog's owner, a woman named Ann who said she owned the Italian place here in Dreamwood. She said she saw the signs, and I told her I would bring the dog by soon. Without a word more, she hung up.

The dog wasn't well trained and struggled to walk on a leash. I picked him up and carried him in my arms for the duration of the short walk to Ann's. Maybe she'll give me some free food, I thought.

I got there right around 6:30, which was probably dumb on my part. Dinner rush at an already-busy restaurant, and here I am with an ugly white canine wiggling around in my arms. The line wasn't too bad, but I went right up to the counter anyway. To the lady at the register, I said, "Is Ann here? I have her dog." The woman was Ann, and seemed vaguely happy to see the pit bull. She seemed a bit overwhelmed and didn't offer me any kind of reward. She offered a kind "thank you," used to the routine it seemed. I handed the dog over the counter, a bit unsanitary to me, and she tied him up behind the counter.

I hopped in line, my stomach growling. I was carefully scanning the menu, trying to find something that looked appealing, when a young man walked in and began to yell. He yelled Ann's name and pushed his way to the counter. The dog began to bark, which only heightened the growing tension in the restaurant. The man was angry, and Ann had little to say, or so it seemed to me. She asked me to take the dog back outside, saying she didn't want the dog to disrupt the guests or be scared itself. A little late for that, I thought. I obeyed, and went outside to wait for the storm inside to calm down.

Amid the yelling that was occurring in the restaurant, I gathered my own thoughts and realized that the ugly white pit bull was a lot like myself. It was lost. I was lost. That was about all I could think of. I began to people watch, instantly becoming comfortable outside the chaos. After a while, I decided I needed to leave. I tied the dog tightly to the bench so that it wouldn't run away again. Hopefully Ann will be back out here soon. 

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