For like a year there I couldn’t stop picking up stray dogs. Every time I stepped out, it seemed like a stray dog was sitting on the sidewalk or stuck between a fence or facedown in the pond trying to drown itself. And what was I supposed to do? Leave that dog there– fucking– let that dog die? You know I couldn’t. So I brought these dogs back to my house. I brought back the beagles and schnitzels and dobermans and great pyrenees and short-haired bernese mountain dogs, the labs and retrievers and the chows, the dogs that were part dog and part wolf and the dogs that acted like they were cats and the dogs that had been mistreated and cowered in the corner snapping at my fingers until I won them over with patience and love. And as I’ve mentioned, these dogs were in my house, these dogs were all over my furniture crying and humping and chasing their tails, each one hungrier than the last. You would feed one and 10 more would run up to take its place. I mean, Jesus! After a while, I didn’t have enough dog food or money for dog food. So I came up with a scheme to get as much dog food as physically possible, sans money, a mission that required the use of my scarf and sawed-off shotgun. That was how I found myself down at the pet mart brandishing my weapon at the cashier, saying, all the goddamn dog food right now!
Even the treats? The cashier asked.
Especially the treats, I said.
I hit like, six pet marts in a single day. And for a few hours, it worked– the dogs had all the food they could want. They ate themselves into a veritable coma. But the authorities must have put two and two together– my neighbors snitching on account of all the barking and dog shit– because later on there was a SWAT vehicle on the front lawn, men and women in body armor milling about flexing their biceps, and a big bald man on a megaphone saying, come out with your hands up we know you have the dogs and the dog food.
And I yelled back, what dogs? There are no dogs here.
And he said, why’d you steal the dog food then?
And I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
And he said, is it because your girlfriend died and your mom left you and you have no money?
And I said, well, my girlfriend left me, my mom died, and you’re right I have no money. So what?
And he said, so what, nothing. We’re coming in now. We’re going to shoot tear gas in there and that’s a big no-no. The dogs hate tear gas. So I took the dogs to the basement and turned off the lights and said, guys shut the fuck up we gotta be real quiet, but you know how it goes one dog whimpers or steps on another dog’s tail and then there’s a snap and a yelp and one dog starts barking then two dogs are barking then three and four and– well, you can count– and it drove me absolutely crazy all this barking and the cops pounding on the door and my eyes burning from the tear gas until I realized maybe all this time I’d wanted to give in, just let go, and bark, bark my fucking head off. So I started barking and going woof woof woof woof too but a funny thing happened where I was barking, but really I was saying something else and what I was saying is this– can’t you see we’re happy here? What did we ever do to anyone? Can’t you please leave us alone? Please please please please please…leave us alone.
