I was focused on the ground, on the heat in my body and the sickness that was spreading from my neck, walking home from the party full of queer boys and where a balding man who had a bad habit of hitting on me sang a dungeonsanddragons/choose your own adventure song on guitar. Feverish, I wanted to sleep. But then I saw the dog, across the street, frozen and watching me. I clicked at it and it cocked its head. I whistled, it did it again, huge blue eyes and snow fur.
Shit.
I’ve wanted an animal companion for six months, preferably a cat, but honestly does it matter? A creature to witness my existence and I theirs? It’s become too much for me to ask such a thing long term of humans, it often is tied to the complexities of communication and insecurity and friendship and sometimes sex, but that’s not true with cats and dogs. Body language, tone of voice, kindness, that’s what matters.
I said hello, patting it’s head and smiling. It raced up and down the sidewalk and into the street. It made me nervous. Dogfriend followed me back to Hellarity. I found Adamscout and was like ‘what the fuck do I do, I can’t take it back to my place’ and Adamscout said, “okay, I’ll watch…” it was dark so he reached out his hand and felt the underbelly of the dog, “him. I’ll hang out with him. But Hell doesn’t want more dogs here right now. We should take him to the pound tomorrow.”
The dog played with Adamscout’s dog, Zoe, they ran back and forth in the yard as fast as they could, a black and white streak in a darkness strewn with bikes and blockades. Zoe is big and sleek and pretty and I think she is my favorite dog at the house. Roots joined us next to the fire pit and we watched them play for half an hour or so,
“This is better than TV” I said.
Dog parade, dog festival, dog pile.
This morning the flame in my body had thickened and I lost all sense of whether it was warm or cold. I walked to Hellarity and Adamscout said he wanted to hang out with Gratercheese some more.
“Oh no, you named him.”
“He was so chill! He curled up next to me and Zoe let him. She never lets other dogs sleep next to me. She really likes him. Shit, I’m tempted to keep him.”
Me too.
I went back to the ReV and fell asleep.
When I woke this time I was further down the rabbit hole or fever hole or whatever. I have an unfortunate habit of hallucinating in fever. I walked to Hellarity. Sounds grated my head. Enola’s voice, which usually sounds like a pretty song hit me as a screech. In my sleep I had realized that we didn’t need to take the dog to the pound to scan for a chip and find the owner, we could do it at the vet’s. Adamscout was explaining who I was to someone as I walked up the stairs to the smoking porch. I blinked at the top. The person he was explaining me to was someone I am in the process of helping start a squat with. I’m always a ghost.
Adamscout looked tired and handed me the leash without much further conversation when I said I would go the vet.
“Make sure you get the leash back.”
The leash was a piece of blue rope full of knots with a clip on one end and a carabigner on the other. Gratercheese only looked slightly annoyed when I clipped it on.
Before I left I asked Enola to keep my coat in her room.
“Really?” she said. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“Is it?”
Enola said that she had taken her other friend out to lunch instead of me. I was bothered by this, much more than I would have if I wasn’t sick. I hate everything and everyone when I’m sick. I want them to die and leave me alone. I am a big, whiny baby.
The walk was long and Gratercheese had obviously not been leash trained. I tried to remember the dog training classes I had gone to as a teen with Sargent Pepper, the wandering creature who I never really did take care like my own. I think I fed him twice and my mom did everything else for the six months he lived at our house. Eventually my mom, tired of caring for him in spite of my promises to be responsible and having to pick him up from the bagel shop down the street whenever he would wander away was like ‘fuck it’ and took him back to the humane society. He was adopted again within a week. I’ve never had an animalfriend in my life since.
The vet was good. Clean and clinical and boring. And the secretary/vettech was so fucking good. Gratercheese had a chip. In a former life maybe twenty-four hours ago he was called Junior. I think I hate that name. She called the owners and couldn’t reach them and then could and then took away Gratercheese and promised to call me when he got picked up.
I almost forgot the leash.
I have two job interviews this week. I’m going to have to finagle this without a phone, but I figure there’s a way. And look, I am charming enough that I can get work, right? The kind I can stand? The only things I want in life right now are an overcab bed that isn’t rotting and new battery clips and maybe some solar panels and most importantly, the entire point of this really, is a chill little kitten with a leash and an ability to be comfortable sitting on my shoulders. A home and a little family. That’s not too much to ask for, right?
