Doggie

I had a few bucks in my pocket I earned standing in traffic holding a cardboard sign reading: “Need help. Have nothing. Must eat. God bless all.” I was walking the streets in the middle of the night when I saw a mid-sized, middle-aged dog approaching with short brown hair and floppy ears. I couldn’t tell much of it right away as it kept approaching straight at me on this quiet, dead-end, run-down street. Ten feet in front, it veered to its right to walk around me, though I watched it keep its eyes on me. I had always liked dogs, and raising my hand slightly in its direction, I said, “hey doggie.” It continued on past me without expression. I did notice as it went by that it wore no collar. After a few steps, I thought to look back, and I saw the dog had the same impulse I did. The moment we made eye contact, its mood drastically changed. Its teeth appeared, and it reversed back on me. I turned to face the aggressor, saw it fiercely snarling, the hair on its back stiffening, and its body coiling as it closed like a sidewinder snake on the desert sand. I took steps back until just a few feet away. I yelled as loud as I could, “Hey!” at the ferocious Chupacabra. The yell echoed off the surrounding houses and returned at the attacker from behind. Bewildered, the possessed creature tried to watch me and behind it at the same time, stopped its assault, withdrew its fangs, straightened its body and quickly retreated. We continued our separate ways. Repeating the frightening event in my head, I had been saved by the animal’s domestic instinct. I witnessed by its behavior at the end its fear of being caught doing wrong when it heard the voice calling from behind. Really, it was too bad; for a moment I had hoped we each might have had something to share as shelter from our mutual destitution.