Foxy

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.