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Phillip Ghee's
True Tales
A Tale of Two Cities
Part Two:
GOD DOGS
There are times when the city remains the same. The prospective of individual dwelling within its walls may change thus opening up such a person to aspects, views and cadences of the city thus new and; sometimes in total opposition to what the resident may have experienced beforehand.
Maybe the accident caused me to blow a few fuses or maybe having been rescued from gravely injury or possibly even death, I owed it to fate to begin again. I was residing in south west town Although I had resided in the city for little more than a year, I had managed to land a prestigious position and commanded a generous salary in that low wage earning town. I had driven a rather nice late model luxury car that is until the accident that totaled my vehicle. See: Phillip Ghee’s True Tales, The Ration of the Christ.
After
the accident, I felt empty and to compensate I engaged myself in a relationship
doomed from the start to failure and generous helpings of drama as it fail.
The stress of work somehow became, either real or imagined, greatly multiplied
and I found no joy in bringing issues to resolution. I grew quite bored with
the southwestern city and learned for my carefree life at
The credit and cash advances ran out still I did not have the compulsion to pull myself together. I eventually could no longer pay rent and ended up reclaiming the car, this time as a residence. It truly was the worst of times.
The good part was that I had to survive and since my girlfriend, now social friend, had teenage children, I did not think it would be a good idea to stay in her place, that would have locked me into to a relationship that I desperately wanted to keep as social and at arms length. So I was now compelled to do something. I always wanted to know more about the building trades and acquaint myself with using all manner of power tools ala Tim Allen’s Home Improvement series. The only way to break into this field without being a trained union member or someone from across the nearby Mexican border was to take on day labor jobs. These jobs were tough, especially when working outside in 100 degree plus weather. Also they seldom paid over minimum wage. After a full day of work you were barely left with enough to cover a good meal and nights stay at the motel.
Therefore, unless I absolutely needed some pampering, a sound night’s sleep and a good scrub down, I elected to spend my night in the car or some abandoned site in order to keep a few dollars in reserve.
One night as I needed a little more stretch out than the car provided, I found myself eyeing a nice secluded spot, near what I assumed were the large outside units for heating this building; The Power Company. This town was terrain wise still located in a desert and although daytime temperatures could still reach the low nineties in the fall of the year, the thermometer dropped considerably during the night. In these post 911 days, the upper portion of the building was well light and patrolled and much activity takes place there around the clock. After all this is where the power grid is maintained. However this cozy little outdoor subbasement seemed free from traffic and obscured from the view of ground or any of the upper levels. One would have to make a conscious decision to go down there if I were to be found.
Sleeping outdoors, even without shelter is no great affair for me. On some of my early adventures like a cross-country bicycle trip I had embarked on and a hitchhiking odyssey ( See: Phillip Ghee’s True Tales, The Hitchhiking Chronicles), I had learned to release my hobo inner self and hone my skills.
The peripheral heat generated by the outdoor units was perfect in thwarting off the night chill. Nearby, a few levels up in the parking garage, I spied then confiscated some pristine large, and already folded boxes; the size of which a modest refrigerator might have arrived in. Positive the coast was clear and no one had seen me, I hauled a couple of these boxes to my hoborium apartment. I even scored some large planks of foam packing.
My first night’s sleep there was marvelous, the best I had since forsaking my apartment, in fact since the stress was off better than when I was in my apartment. And since I wasn’t paying a motel fee this was the icing on the cake. In the morning I neatly packed all my seeping material and slid them behind one of the generators, out of sight and out of mind.
I did my day labor thing , received my minimum wage pay and stuffed it in my beginning to swell pockets. I even treated the car to a little gas. When I got to my homestead later that night, all seemed in order, I don’t think my presence had been detected. I prepared my self for another good night’s sleep.
During
my aforementioned earlier excursions, I have awoken to some stressful and
dangerous situation. There was the sound of a ranch hand beating the side
of the guard shack where I had sleep with a truncheon to wake me up. There
was the noise and shower of sparks that descended upon me as I sleep about
three feet under a, what I had assumed to be a non operational railroad tracks.
It was not.And the numerous blind light of a flash light as, across these
Amazingly these dogs seem thrilled that I had awoken and I doubt if my pleasant greeting turned the situation around for me. One licked me on the face as the other playfully pranced around as if saying to me com’on lets go for a walk. So pleasant were these dogs that I was actually picked up in spirit, the manner of patients in the nursing homes when they receive their canine visitors. I arose played briefly with the two dogs and then with a stern go home sent them away. Five minutes later who should return but the two dogs, still full of play. Although only one of them wore a collar, and that lacked identification, upon close inspection I could tell that these dogs were well taken care of despite the owners neglect in properly identifying his or her pet.
You every see the type of dogs that you can just by looking in their face determine if they are male or female? Both dogs were pure breed. The obvious male was an all white shepherd with out a single blemish or speck of another color. I would guess there age to between two and three years old judging by the exuberance of their play. They were both large dogs but the male seem like he still had a few inches and pounds yet to go. The female was classic Rin Tin Tin black and brown with one of the most feminine faces that I have ever seen on a dog, short of it being one of those puffed, ribboned and pampered toy dogs. Both dogs were remarkable clean and free of dog B.O. They must belong to someone nearby I thought. “O’kay lets go home
I stashed my bedding and together we all headed off. The dogs knew how to walk with person. They aligned themselves, one on one side of me and the other on the other. The female walked so close to me that her wet muzzle used me hand as a steering oar. I had concerns about the male. He would stay by my side at time and at unannounced intervals dash into the streets or to check some interesting tree, bush etc. Since it was still around 4 in the morning, cars and traffic was not a problem in this southwest town. Yet I knew if I did not find their home in the next few hours that the morning flow of traffic would begin and I feared the male might not know how to circumvent traffic.
Neither dog barked although as we approached some of the more upscale residential homes the rallying cries of other dogs, picking up on their scent, could be heard. We walked and we walked with neither dog appearing to know the area. At last we came to a rather large apartment complex. The apartments seemed more on the level of affluent townhomes, the complex was secured with key entry parking and a rather high fence surrounding the entire complex. The male dog took off for the fence and even the female ventured to leave my side, for the first time for an inquisitive look. At this point we had already been on the road for at least an hour. I was tired and now glade that we finally seemed to be getting somewhere. But how to get in? I happen to catch a resident outside his apartment or townhome or whatever. I asked him through the fence if he happen to know or have seen these dogs around the complex. Much as with the way of the affluent he seem distrustful of my motives, did not advance any closer and simple begrudgingly nodded no and skittishly went about his business. There was no way he was gong to let me enter so there was no need in asking. After traversing the large complex several times and not seeing another soul I came to a part of the fence which had the earth near it dug out so that the bottom of the fence was below ground level, at least on the inside of the complex. A HA! I deduce this is how they must have gotten out. Although from my prospective the ditch seem to small for dogs of this size to have squeeze through and why was the male white dog no showing any signs of the loose red dirt? I had no concern that these two dogs would attack anyone so with great effort I manage to pull from the outside , the fence high enough for the male do to quickly enter and dart off. The female took a little coaxing and a gentle shove but at last she too was on the other side in modest pursuit of her companion. As the dogs vanished a good feeling of a job well done overcame me.
I was on the far side of the complex and had to essentially circumnavigate it again in order to get my bearing and make my way back to the power company. Halfway one this venture I heard the patter of rapidly approaching feet and turned around and Lo and Behold there were my orphans. How did they get out? I still saw no signs of red dirt on the white male dog and I just couldn’t picture the timid female trying to squeeze herself, even if it were possible, through that small ditch by the fence. I didn’t know the south of the power company area that well but I was sure that another complex of that size was not in the area. How could the male dog been mistaken, me assuming that the dog had been fooled.
Off
we went again in search of home. Traffic had started to flow and if I was
to get employment for the day, I would have to be at the day labor place by
at least
Most of the homes did not have fences or gates since this would affect the ascetics of the homes. They all seem to have their private security service notices posted and I assumed, they assumed that this was protection enough. I did find several homes and home based businesses and even a museum that did have a fence. I repeated the drill structure after structure. The dogs would cried a little but, never bark , as they looked with exacerbation
as I would leave them in the safety confinements of a fence here and a gate their and walk away. And each time no sooner had I made it halfway down the block would the now familiar patter of the orphans be heard rushing to find me. They never seem offended once rejoining me, they just responded as if we were playing a game. Could these dogs fly or something, I marveled.
I met a guy, walking the other side of the street. First he commented on the beauty of the dogs and then asked if I were a person named A_____? The name was something extremely foreign and exotic which I would think that I bared no resemblance in having.
He was either Mexican or Indian or Mexican with heavy on the Indian.
When I countered no, he explained to me that a seer (he used another termed but from what followed I could gage when he was trying to convey) had told him to be on the lookout for such a person and that after engaging them, that he would be put on the path to prosperity. The person he was told would be traveling with two dogs, a white one and a black one. Was he still nursing a cold one? Now I became just as skittish and distant as the earlier affluent townhouse dweller. I did have the courtesy to thank him for admiring the dogs, apologized for not being that person and let it be known to him that I was just the temporary caretaker of the dogs.
Road to prosperity, Heck! I didn’t even have a bed to sleep in. However with the amazing exploits of the dogs I did want to attach some supernatural significance to the dogs but what? I don’t make up stuff until I get some sort of confirmation. And in this case I didn’t have a clue.
It was now early morning light. I had to get these dogs away from traffic. I ended up going to a small park in one of the town squares. Workman were setting up for an event. Most of them were not from the area and no one volunteered as a foster parent.
I hated to do it but I finally asked someone to call animal control for me. When the animal contol officer arrived he assured me that unlike in the big cities, great efforts is made to ascertain rightful ownership of obvious well taken care of pets. This comment even included posting and segments on the local news. After that has been exhausted, good looking animals like these are often adopted. I happen to have been an orphan myself and I know that strangers can take you in and make you a part of their family. I was much relieved but still sad to see them go. Unfortunately the animal control vehicles are much the same as those in the cities and it brings a tear to ones eye to see a pet hoisted up into the little pens. My orphaned kids made no great fuss they cried a little and then they were off.
Many weeks later, I had lost the car to repossession and not wishing to see any of the people who knew me in better days, I headed north to another southwest town and continued my service with day labor agencies. Now I was lively outside wholly in an unused trailer the kind that affixes to a semi-trailer truck. I still did the motel thing when I needed some pampering. I also took to going to an outdoor church service, that served one heck of a meal afterwards. The first service the minister told some light hearted stories about his family and his two dogs. These had nothing per se to do with the impending service but in the Christian church traditional many pastors tell a funny tale just to lighten things up. I could not help but think about the dogs and reminisced how attached I had became to them in that one single night. Later I tuned in to what the minister was actually preaching on, I had blocked him out and had missed the start of the sermon. He had based the night’s preaching/teaching on the 23rd. Psalm, The Lord is my Shepherd. He was now at the very end of the passage: Surely Goodness and Mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
At least now I know that my orphaned dogs had names.
End
© Phillip Ghee
phillipghee@yahoo.com
and for website posting ghelove@aol.com
