Wednesday, May 7th 2008

This story has been on the back burner for ages. Sometimes it’s better to talk about something after the fact. I’ve whittled this down considerably and yet it is still reeeeally long so I’ve decided to pepper it with photos!

That’s right. This is all about Petey.

When I first got him it was clear that he suffered from a severe case of separation anxiety. He would tear up the rug in front of the door and began to rip the metal frame from around the front door in an effort to get out whenever I was away from home. I bought a wire cage from Petsmart only to have him chew, yes chew through it squeezing himself through an opening that I am shocked did not cause a bloody mess and a trip to the ER. I talked to the instructor for Petey’s first segment of obedience class about my dilemma and she told me of a woman who encountering the same problem had designed, with the help of a welder, a wrought iron cage that was meant for the transport of large exotic animals, more specifically, a tiger! Obviously the cage was going to be made smaller and the idea was comical and I was hopeful. My hopes were short lived however and smashed to a million pieces when I came home to find Petey soaked in urine and slobber. The final event that led Petey back to the truck was the “Post-Its” on my door from neighbors asking me to quiet my dog. I was literally at my last rope now so in the meantime while I figured out what the next step was in calming this panic I had to take Petey with me everywhere in my truck.

Amazingly he had absolutely no trouble hanging out in the truck; he knew I was coming back and he would lay down on his pillows quiet and relaxed patiently waiting for daddy to return. It was very problematic during August and September as the temperature would reach into the 100s. Not only was it a issue for my little boy’s health, but it is illegal to leave a dog in the car in CA. I would crank up the AC and only be gone for minutes at a time. I would enlist the help of friends to watch him when I had to run errands that would take more than a couple of minutes; this was now a full time job.

I enjoyed his company though and when I would see his little ears blowing in the wind from my rear view mirror I would just smile and be happy that he was in my life. I would leave the little window of the cab half open when I would go shopping or to the gym and it was set to a spot that even I had a hard time getting past. I had done this so many times and was without worry or fear that he would get out and besides, he was not anxious at all about hanging out in the truck.

One night I had attended a class on the Science of Happiness and of course brought Petey along. When I pulled in on the far side of the lot I noticed a man and a woman of the tweeked out variety in close proximity. I made a comment to Petey that may have been a bit judgmental, but I thought since it was just the two of us that no harm would be done. I pulled in to my spot and went inside at 7:10 PM. I know this because I glanced at the clock when I turned the truck off. At 9 PM the class ended and I went outside to the truck ready to be greeted by my beloved companion. I approached and noticed that the window appeared to be opened all the way. Panic set in and I ran to the truck. I unlocked the door the truck illuminated to show an empty cab. I wanted to throw up. I immediately imagined him by the side of the road then switched to a vision of him lost in the foothills of the mountains that looked over us from the West. Even as I write this and relive it, I feel that panic rising from my gut and the chill running down my arms to my fingertips; it was to date the worst experience I can recall. I started to run calling his name as loud as I could. I had no idea where I was running to, but standing still would only serve to exacerbate the panic and fear that seemed to engulf my body. I had only gone about 50 ft around the building when I made a quick left to see my beloved four legged friend hanging out calm as cash with the two crackheads that I silently insulted 2 hours prior.

They had Petey leashed with some rustic rubber tubing that was crudely tied to his collar like some junkyard dog. The female was grossly thin and clutching a “Big Gulp.” Her male companion was silent and wearing sunglasses. She began to explain that she found my dog and that he looked really lost and scared so she grabbed him and gave him chicken. The three of them were hanging out by the pay phone around the building, a football’s throw from my truck. I looked at her gaunt, skeletal face as she explained again that they had found the dog and that he was scared, they gave him chicken and called the number listed on his tags. I thanked them over and over and she said her victory speech over and over until I coughed up a couple of twenties.

The second I was alone with Petey I began to cry, hard, really hard. And I was ashamed of myself for my remark earlier about the street kids. That all changed very soon. Once I discovered the 10 voicemails left during my two hour absence it was clear that Petey had been taken and more or less held for ransom. He did not push that window open, they opened it. What fucking balls! You have to be really cracked out and desperate to stick your hand in a truck with the face of a pit bull staring back at you. They coaxed him out with the cheap chicken they got from the KFC behind the building and took him right to the phone where they began to make their rescue calls. It was definitely a moment to remember and now when Petey goes with me the window is locked.

With that scary episode behind me and a very different life in front of me there has been much improvement with Petey. Thanks to a little intense training and some tough love he can now stay at home by himself (for short spells anyway). There are still days that push me to my limits, but I think he’s definitely worth a little wear and tear on my nerves. Who knows what would have become of him if I hadn’t come along? I know I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today without the collaborative support of many, many individuals and they didn’t give up on me when I chewed on their $260 custom sandals! Well, you get the idea.

This entry was posted by Johnny on Wednesday, May 7th, 2008 at 1:53 PM and is filed under Anthropology, Just Life, PD, Photos. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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