There was a dog pound on the West Side of the City.
The West Side of Jacksonville was not the favored side of the town. Wrong side of the tracks...actually, wrong side of the river. Everything west of the St. John's River north of JTB was suspect. It was here I rented a one bedroom apartment on the Cedar River, a tributary of the St. John's after the LTR and I split...after I lost my job in DC after the 1992 election. To lose one's partner, apartment and job in a single month (November, 1992) well, to borrow from David, I was careless that year.
I had a difficult new job. My past experience was politics and government work. Now I worked for a stodgy corporation and it was stifling. Unlike DC, socializing after hours with co-workers was actually frowned on. I knew no one. I could go entire weekends without speaking face to face with another human soul except a thank you to the check out clerk at the grocery store.
There was also a gay bar called Edison Street on the West Side of Jacksonville. There I met Jay, muscled, blonde, sexy. And a drug addict. One night he asked me to hang out. I was lonely. He was attractive. And attentive. And so I did.
This went on for a while. I remember, vaguely, Jay telling a dealer about the expensive stereo equipment I had. I remember wanting Jay, but he kept himself out of reach, except when it came to getting high, drugs bought with my money.
I was desperate. But not entirely stupid. I knew I had to end it.
There was a dog pound on the West Side of the City.
And so I found myself there. I had had a dog as a kid. She -- Candy -- had been my friend during those awkward pre-teen years.
There was a dog pound on the West Side of the City.
She was there.
A puppy, around six months. Infested with fleas and ticks and, the vet cautioned me, Lord knows what else. He warned me not to expect too much until we knew her true measure.
Her measure was that of the bestest of best of friends.
"You had me at hello." It's a cliche but it's true. She was joy wrapped in fur when we met. For the rest of her life -- until this last year when old age clouded her memories -- she would look at me with a look that said, "you saved me."
After she adopted me I never saw Jay again. Nor did I feel as alone. My partner and I got back together. She adopted him too.
There was a dog pound on the West Side of the City. It saved my life. She saved my life.
"You saved me." I can only hope this outcast dog from the wrong side of the river in Jacksonville, Florida saw that in my eyes too.
Because it's true.
I'm going to miss my friend.
5 comments:
I'm very sorry that Ranger has "crossed over the rainbow bridge". You and the huz gave her many long years of love and happiness. I'm sure Jake and Jesse and Meghan welcomed her as a fellow band geek secretly hoping they dont allow us to bring those squawking instruments to heaven with us. Big hugz.. BV
This gave me shivers. I'm sorry your lost your friend.
Thank you for your support.
To clarify, we are putting Ranger down on Saturday unless nature intervenes and takes her before then.
I'm working through this by writing some of my memories of her, and with this post, why she has had a profound impact on my life. I'm trying not to be too melodramatic and I may not be succeeding.
Again, thank you for writing your support and condolences. In many ways, the dog she was is already gone and all that remains is one very worn out dog ready for rest.
What a beautiful tribute. Thanks for sharing it.
Very sorry for what you are going through. I can't even think about having to go through this with my dog without getting very emotional....luckily we have a ways to go. But, the pain and sadness from putting down my last dog 6 years ago is still there. I wish I had insight on how to deal with assisting your dog in transitioning to the next phase of her life, but I don't. Hopefully remembering the good times and knowing that you were destined to share that bond of saving each other will help you. You and Ranger will be in my thoughts.
AD
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