Incendiary

This neighborhood, the park especially, used to be a prime spot for dumping dogs. Plenty of foot traffic, riddled with pet lovers, decent police presence made it seem like exactly the right place for a dog in need of help. The reality, of course, is that a community of pet lovers is generally a community all full up on pets so there aren't as many resources for saving as one might think. Lately, for whatever reason, it's been a rare enough sight but not completely stopped.

Tonight I stopped at Who's Your Doggy on the way home. I bought food for the dog, some good training treats, and some biscuits. Just past the corner where I turn on my block there were two cops standing next to a dog who was tied to an empty bike rack. I walked over and got a look at her and asked about her. Then I opened up my bag and got out the biscuits and fed her a bunch.

My heart is broken, the kind of broken where I am filled with anger at everyone and everything that brought us to a point where someone, even someone with a decent reason for having to get rid of a dog, would leave a dog like that. She's maybe 40 lbs and seems young, like she'll fill out but not necessarily grow that much. In my very short interaction with her it seems as though she's bright, food motivated, knows that sitting will yield a reward. She's not snappy or grabby and, though I didn't stick my hand down her maw, her mouth is relatively gentle. The police didn't know how long she'd been there but it can't have been too long. She's thin and strong but not emaciated. Hungry but not starving. She clearly knew what it meant when I started opening the bag of biscuits. As another dog approached one of the cops warned me that she was reactive. I stepped a little back. She whuffed softly at the passing dog but when called by the cop and with the promise of the treat I had in my hand that was the extent of it. She was far less interested in the other dog than she was in us.

Rest assured that anger I mentioned extends to me. Intellectually I know that I have an obligation to the animals I already have and that bringing in another dog, especially such an unknown quantity, would disrespect that. I don't have the money or time to do them all justice. But there she sat with her up ears and her trusting eyes and her need for love and I hate myself for not just taking her. I had a dog like her once and that dog wound up being the best dog in the whole world.

I tried to give the cops my bag of biscuits but they would only take a handful. I reached my piano player's hands deep and took out the biggest handful I could possibly manage. They were waiting for someone to bring a crate so they could bring her to the Brooklyn branch of the CACC. I gave her more treats when they confirmed that because only something like 1 in 600 pits get adopted and black dogs don't get adopted because they read as scarier and with the system so overloaded since the big storm she didn't stand a chance and I wanted her to go with a belly full. The cops did, too, I think.

On my way home from walking Ed I stood on the corner, too far away to hear the conversation but something was going on. Two separate dog people were stopped to talk to the dog and to a cop who hadn't been there before. I didn't hear her barking at the other dogs even when the people brought them close to her. The cop seemed to be saying to one guy that he'd stay with her and then something about Who's Your Doggy. I hope it means that someone was going to buy a crate then come back and take her home. I hope someone with better resources, better ideas, a better heart came to her aid. I hope.

But I'm still really, really angry.