I thought this one was going to be redundant but the Bride
pointed out that everything I ever say or talk about is redundant, so if this
one seems like you heard it before, welcome to my morning…
The call from the cops at 7 a.m. was, there is a pit bull
tied to a fence between the liquor store and the trailer park where all the bad
things happen, and it has been tied there all night long. So I go there, and I
see a large red nose pit lying on the ground with a black rope wrapped around
her neck and around the chain link fence, but in such a way that the rope
around her neck looks loose enough like she could pull out of it if she wanted.
One guy walked past her and she looked at him, another guy rode past her on a
crappy old bike and she looked at him too, and just lay there. Why was I
surprised then, when I got out of my truck and she immediately stood up and
barked at me in a mean fashion?
In the back of my mind I knew I was looking for one of two
red nose pits- one guy from the next town had called me last week looking to
re-home one, I told him our little pro-humane shelter was full-up on pits, he
should google rescues, offer it up on craig’s list or call the county shelter,
and I noted it in case it turned up as a dump. (I could go on for gigabites
about jerk-offs who have a couple of pit bulls for a couple of years, claiming
they are such soul mates with their dogs, such great owners and trainers and so
responsible, and then mom in Texas has a hangnail so they have to move back to
take care of mom’s hangnail and have no place for their dogs to go so it is now
MY problem.)
This wasn’t that red nose.
This was Foxy, the other red nose.
(I figured it out from the microchip, which was registered to Darlene, a
well known meth dealer in town, who had given the dog several years ago to
Marla, a girl I knew who lives under some cardboard in the bushes by the
dumpsters near where they built the new restaurant.)
The first time I met Foxy, she was in the back of a police
car with her
person, Marla, who was also sitting in the back of the police car, handcuffed,
and waiting to be transported to the jail. This was at the far end of the abandoned,
razed trailer park by the sewer plant, that was all overgrown and inhabited
with maybe all of the city’s homeless population camping along the fringes. Marla had been holding meth and said something about her boyfriend stabbing someone and wanting to stab her, I didn't really catch it all as I leashed the red pit and pulled her out of the car. I told
Marla that I would take care of Foxy while she took care of her short term
business, and Marla told Foxy to trust me, so she did, and so that’s how we
met.
This time, before I figured out the part you just read about
who the dog was, I needed to get the dog from the fence into my truck, so I
grabbed some beef jerky treats (again, they are delicious) and ambled sideways
toward her while looking somewhere else and pretending to have a conversation
with an invisible person. The dog continued to bark at me in a mean fashion,
but it was fear barking, so I turned my back on her and sat down on the ground,
on some old cat shit and broken glass. And the dog turned her back on me and sat down
too. I petted her rump and she freaked out and barked meanly at me from a foot
away. I made a mental note that I should be eulogized as an idiot. Then the dog
licked my ear and my face and crawled into my lap. I knew this dog! And, she
knew me – Foxy!
The liquor store guy said she had been there all night, so
did the manager of the trailer park, so Foxy got to ride shotgun. Turns out
Marla had been arrested the previous night, in the next town over. Her charges
include a warrant for failure to appear for a prior theft charge, she was
arrested for theft and possession of illegal narcotics for sale. She will be
arraigned tomorrow and will probably be released before noon.
Here is the part that would surprise me five years ago but
now makes sense: I will return Foxy to Marla when she tries to reclaim her, and
waive all the fees. This is because Foxy
would not survive in a shelter, her protective aggression makes her
unadoptable, there are no pit bull rescues in real life, there are no rescues
in real life for homeless, addicted mentally ill women, and on the streets
Marla might not survive without Foxy to protect her. I am supposed to
prioritize my calls in favor of public safety. I will be keeping my eye out in
that part of town for Marla and Foxy.