The days are long and hot, wet and humid, and I thank the spirit of the universe for the existence of ICE. It seems that my world moves between hot and cold with brief interludes of the temperature being just right; the type that promotes good sleeping and comfort, and the kind of temps where I'm cold or waking up sweating. I think that the homeless in Hawaii have a distinct advantage in this respect.
Continuing in the same vein as the last post - there have often been non-humans in my life, as I'm sure have been in yours, life-forms that have shared an emotional bond unequaled in other relationships, a subscription of depth enjoyed by the human and non-human counterparts. I have been fortunate to enjoy my participation in three of those relationships. Mookie, I have already shared with you. The other two were, in my estimation, of the same high emotional/intelligence caliber; both sharing a subjective resonance that few human/animal relationships reflect.
Chief...ahh, yes, Chief, half Doberman, half German Sheppard, a great hunter who humped anything in sight with a vagina. He was a 'people' dog. He lived with me for nearly three years. He began life his life with me in Bay Minette, AL when he was five months old, already house broken and trained by a young woman who drove a Vette - this was in the mid-70s. She was hot with long blond hair and tall, and yes, I wanted to initiate reproductive activities with her but I was in awe of her beauty and demeanor...and, well, basically, I was too much of a dumb ass, too unsophisticated, plus her boyfriend didn't like me. At that time, in my early twenties, I didn't smoke anything, drink, do meth or marching powder, inject anything, do shroons or participate in any pagan rituals. Maybe that lack of activity on my part was a major drawback for her. I played tennis a lot and went to karate classes four days a week while working on a pipeline maintenance crew which involved a lot of sweating.
During that time, I rented a trailer in the woods, about a quarter-mile from the nearest neighbor. From what I heard from them, Chief and the other canines in the area formed a pack of dogs of several types, raising mischief in the area all day; all good natured, of course. I let him out in the morning when I went to work and he was always at the trailer waiting on me in the afternoon when I got off work, probably tired from the day's activities with his friends. He came with me whenever I went to play tennis, frolicking with the other dogs at the courts. Seemed liked nearly everyone had a canine companion in that small town.
Whenever Chief needed to do 'business' in the middle of the night, he would bark a couple of times to wake me up, sometimes jumping on the bed in a not-so-gentle manner to ensure my participation in his time of need. I would open the back door and he would jump nearly three feet to the ground and leap back up when he was finished. On the weekends, we would tromp through the woods for several hours at a time. I would bring some dry dogfood for him and a sandwich for me, of which he sometimes partook of.
One time I prepped a meal and sat down to eat when the phone rang. Yes, in those days, if you wanted to talk on a phone, you had to have a dime for the payphone or you utilized the landline; no cellphone, text messaging or any PC based new-finagled technology. Anyway, I finished the call and sat back down at the table when I noticed the steak was gone. The mashed taters, sliced tomatoes and green beans were untouched. I looked over at Chief who was sitting by the table wagging his tail, his ears perked, head tilted a bit as if asking Anymore? How could I be pissed? I routinely gave him a a bite or two of what I was eating - left over hotdog, burger, etc. It was a meatless meal but all future meals were closely guarded.
I think I mentioned that I played tennis a lot in those days. There were several tennis courts in that town; a junior college was there, too. Chief was always with me, unleashed, playing with other canines, doing what they do. Of course, he would be trying to hump everything in sight or fighting or dominating to prove his mettle. One day he, in some way, without any training on my part, appointed himself as primary ball retriever when I was practicing my serve. He came through an open gate and started bringing the balls back to me, some slightly damp. He developed a wariness after a ball or two hit him accidentally when he wandered into the target area, displaying a respect for tennis balls traveling at warp 100.
One time when I was playing a match, I saw Chief being run over by a truck on one of the small side streets. I saw him being rolled under the vehicle by the impact. The lead weight in the stomach, despair, dread...yeah, I experienced those feelings when I saw the event. My best friend hurt, hearing his vocals of pain, I ran over to...to do something. When I got there, he was up and limping on his left front paw. I petted him and checked his paw, noting nothing was broken. Within a few minutes, he was running about as always, no worse for the experience. I think that is the first time I thanked the spirit of the universe for watching out for me and mine. I did notice in the days after that he seemed to have discovered a respect for fast moving vehicles by not blindly running onto paved surfaces.
Despite being well-trained and obedient, he had a habit which some found annoying and some found hilarious. His genes gifted him with a long snout, of which he routinely put in the crotch of any unwary human female which brought the response nice doggy!, and giggles while their hands were pushing his head away. I never tried to break him of that habit probably due to my lack of maturity. His behavior did bring the comment, on many occasions, of how a dog reflects the behavior of the human owner.
Our life situation changed when I transferred to the City, the place of the disco lights. I moved into an apartment where Chief ran wild while I was at work. I had a moral difficultly keeping him locked up in an apartment all day long and didn't think it would be a problem with him roaming the property, he being a friendly sort. Apparently, as it got back to me, fellow residents who didn't know him had a problem with a big dog with large teeth that just wanted to play. After a couple of weeks of living there, I came home one day to find him chained up at the manager's office...and that hurt. Chief had never been constrained in such a manner, never been penned up. He always obeyed whatever I said even if I never knew how he knew what I was saying. Maybe some woman took exceptional...exception to having a long snout stuffed in her crotch by a dog she didn't know. For the next couple of weeks I boarded him at a kennel which I didn't like and I know that he didn't like. I could only see him on weekends; getting him Friday evening and returning him Monday morning.
I ended up giving him to a friend of a co-worker who lived near some woods and had a large fenced yard. He also had two kids in grammar school. I soon met them one day after work at the kennel where Chief was staying. They came in a single cab truck. Chief was excited as he always was when I came for him, as I was but I wasn't excited this time. I asked them to give us a few minutes and I told Chief the situation, that we had to part, that he would be happier at his new home. He seemed to understand, judging by his behavior of rubbing against me and his vocals. I remember walking him to their truck and saying stupid shit like ' be a good dog', etc. He hopped into the truck and sat between the two kids. I spent a couple of minutes talking to their father and noticed that they were getting along well. I remember feeling like shit but it was the best alternative that I could think of considering the circumstances. As they pulled out of the parking lot, I thought that I was seeing the last of a good friend who shared many good times during the course of our association. At that moment as their truck stopped before making a right turn, Chief turned around and looked back at me. We held eye contact for a few moments before the truck made the turn. I had the impression that he knew the circumstances and with his look, saying goodbye and that our association will be missed, that our time together was enjoyable and fulfilling.
For several days afterward, I missed him. I felt that I had let a friend down. During the next four or five months, my co-worker told me of Chief's exploits and I knew he was doing well, happy where he was and the people that he was living with.
But I remembered him from time to time throughout the years as a friend, a companion. The sharpness of our association and our parting has dulled with the passing of years but an echo of the intensity remains.
You are dead now, Chief, but I hope your years were filled with good food, good relationships and the occasional thought of me, as mine have been of you.
And, of course, the occasional unguarded, defenseless steak.
Next time,
David
