All Entries Tagged With: "Barking about a dog"

How Things Happen: Walter Brown

“He said honey, “I pilfered, I trifled

I murdered, I lied and I stole”

And she said “Hush and eat your supper

before everything gets cold.”

— Mark Germino

 

 For the second time in his 29 years my son was after me to get a dog. Since

the first time worked out reasonably well, I wasn’t adamantly opposed to the

idea.

 My son and I agree that a dog should be of a certain size, girth, width,

height, stature and so forth.  When we think dog we think large.  For one

thing it is hard to call a small dog a grand name like Snow King, Thor,

Juneau or Maverick.

We next pondered what kind of large dog would be most appropriate. We

discussed several brand names  –  Newfoundland and Irish Wolfhound among

them.  My son agreed to track down a source for these dogs. He’d get back to

me.

When he did several weeks later he offered a curious plan.

“First of all dad, these dogs cost money”

“What dogs?”

“Newfoundlands and they drool.”

“How much ?”

“They drool a lot dad and . . “

“No, no, how much money?

$1200 – $1500 bucks”

“Jesus son, I’m not gonna pay $1500 bucks for a dog , drool or not.”

“No dad. I’m gonna buy the dog” he said without conviction or any

enthusiasm I could notice.

“You’re going to buy the dog huh. Where are you going to get it?”

“Seattle. I think I can buy the dog in Seattle”

“You’re going to Seattle to buy the dog?” My son lives in Denver.

“No, I’ll order the dog over the internet. “I thought about this for a

couple of seconds.

“How are you going to get the dog down here.” I live in Northern New

Mexico.

“I’ll send you the dog.”

I think we both knew that the plan was dubious at best but even the

strangest endeavors sometimes assume a momentum of their own. Look at the

candidacy of George W. Bush for president.

As I thought this whole thing over I knew what I had to do. I immediately

gave notice at work to create yet more time to think this over; to prepare

myself mentally and spiritually; to be on hand when the mailman delivered

the dog and so on.  I also came up with a name for the dog. Walter. The dog

would be called Walter.

My son called back a couple of weeks later with the news that he had

discussed with his fiancee the plan to buy a $1500 dog in Seattle over the

internet and send it to me .

“What did she say son?”

“She said it was the dumbest thing she had ever heard of.”

We were both relieved.

This would probably have been the end of the whole matter had I not come up

with a name for the dog.

Walter.

  Some people believe that as a concept or idea becomes real in your mind it

becomes real in actuality. Kind of like what you believe is what you’re

gonna get. Nobody knows exactly how this works because the mechanism is

invisible to most of us. It may have to do with the “unified field”. It may

have to do with the “collective unconscious”. It may revolve from  some

mysterious “underlying intelligence”. We don’t understand it precisely

because it is silent to our normal senses but that in no ways means it

doesn’t exist.

Some people see it as no more than the complete circle of giving and

receiving.  Some people call it flow, others call it belief or faith. Still

others tab it dumb luck.

The first time I actually saw Walter was about a week later. He was

recovering from internal injuries and surgery to repair a broken back leg.

He was in a cage at the Vet’s office looking kind of sad and dopey.  My ex

wife, who found him the day before outside of the Espanola library, an

apparent victim of an encounter with a car or truck, had taken him to the

vet then notified me.

As I looked at Walter I wondered of course if he would grow to be a

reasonably large dog, which he has to include an astoundingly large head. I

also wondered what kind of dog he might be.  Today, six  months later, I am

still wondering.

The vet told me that because Walter had four pins in his leg that it was

very important, oh boy did she stress this, that the dog not walk ,

certainly not run, around for two weeks.

I fashioned a cardboard box and pretty much carried Walter around with me.

From time to time removing him from the box and placing him outside

exhorting and encouraging him to do his duty or something like that. I’m not

sure how I put it.

It is not easy  to keep a  month old puppy in cardboard box for an extended

period of time. I think I did as well as the next guy except one occasion

when Walter was accompanying me in the truck on a trip to Espanola.

One of my accomplishment since I left Crested Butte is learning how to use

a drive up ATM machine and it was on the way to such a machine that I made

my first mistake. I pulled into MacDonalds and ordered a Sausage MucMuffin.

I placed the  breakfast sandwich on the dashboard and drove across the

street to the ATM machine where with confidence I inserted the plastic card

into the bowels of the machine. I punched in a four number code known only

to me and requested forty bucks. The machine indicated it was processing .

At this time I made my second mistake. I reasoned I could unwrap and take a

bite out of that Sausage MucMuffin while I waited for my cash. The instant

the sandwich was unwrapped and en route  to my mouth Walter, bum leg and

all, sprang like a cougar out of the box straight through me towards the

sandwich. Surprised and startled  I fended off the surprisingly strong and

determined dog in an effort to protect myself and the sandwich which was

mistake # 3.

  Walter tumbled back into his box which in turn tumbled  into the gearshift

and onto the floor of the truck  spewing out the dog in a crumbled and

awkward position and causing him to engage in a sustained, plaintive howl.

Oh Jesus, what have I done? As the machine churned out my cash,  I set

about rescuing the dog, spilling a cup of dangerous McDonald coffee in the

process, not directly on the dog thank god, but  contributing in general to

the ongoing mayhem and disorder.

  I untangled the dog the best I could. I repeatedly expressed sincere

regret . I held him. I cajoled and calmed him. I lamented my stupidity and

then after the third absolution of “‘I’ll make up to you Walter I really

will” I reached out to complete my transaction with the ATM machine only the

money wasn’t there any longer. Did it fly out of the tray?  Did it . . .

I subsequently learned that after a prescribed period of time ATM machines

will swallow back your money.  The machine of course deducts the money it

just snatched away from you from your account.  It’s your fault. You didn’t

“grab it fast.” I tossed the now battle torn sandwich in the trash and drove

away.

Walter has cost me in other ways. When I engaged a plumber at the modest

rate of 80 bucks an hour Walter stealthily removed a key part, then a key

tool from the operation which cost me at least another forty bucks in time

relocating. Then there is his curious habit of  snatching my razor and

chewing it , blade included, beyond recognition. Did I mention that he

throws up any food that costs less than $1 a can?

Still the dog is a blessing, a proud and goofy compliment and companion.

Most guys really like their dogs and I’m no exception. Perhaps it’s the

unconditional love, for sure it’s the humor, and  maybe, just maybe, it

sometimes has something to do with the process of  how a thing happens in

the first place.

— Lee H. Ervin