I bought an English bulldog today for 5 dollars. He’s as white as an old man’s beard, but has the pep of a hopped up candy addict. I bought him from a homeless man while walking down the street away from work. The bum, dressed in worn black and white zebra pants and a 1996 championship Bull’s t-shirt, approached me and said, “I’ll tradeya da mut fo som blow.” The dog snorted a sneeze. I looked down at the him, his eyes colored like black sludge , the murkiness drawing me in. “Naw, I think I’ll pass, man.”
I tried to walk away. I tried to take my eyes off the dog. But the dog’s mouth seemed to move, begging me to stay and take him away, “Dan, I need your help. Don’t leave me here with this man. Please.” I think in my head how much does it cost to get high in this town - five, ten, 100 bucks. I am not quite sure since I stopped doing drugs in my teens - I only ever smoked the occasional bowel of weed, nothing too hardcore. I decided that I would lowball this old gent of the streets. “5 dollars for the dog.”
“5 Dollars is all ya got. I don believ that fo a sekund. 50 bucks for an ol man that wantz to gut hi. I need to taik awae the paine. Pleaz I beg you.”
Do I want to assist this old man escape? I know I have been looking for an escape for quite awhile, even if it isn’t from street drugs. I can feel for this man who peddles around this dog day and night. I know the dog doesn’t belong to him. He probably stole it from some little girl named Suzy or some Business executive who left the dog unattended in the park. But who I am I to be the moral or ethical authority here. If the guy wants to get high, I am going to let him. I feel more for the damn dog than this man. Maybe I can find its rightful owner. Maybe I can do something worthwhile for a change, have someone call me hero.
“5 dollars is all you’re getting out of me. No more. Hand me over that dog.” And with that I toss a crumpled up wad of one dollar bills at the man’s feet. “I could have used this on a drink a second ago. Use this money wisely. I am usually not the kind of man that hands out money on a whim. I am going to come find you and make sure you are doing something with your life. What’s your name?”
The honesty and vigor in my voice scared me.
“Sammy Wismon”
“Sammy Wismon, I will meet you right here on this street every week. I expect to see you here to meet me. Now that we are friends, I don’t want you to let me down.”
With that, Sammy shook my extended hand, his eyes latching onto mine like fish hooks.
“Thancs fo da 5 dollars.”
I bought an English bulldog today for 5 dollars. And also, maybe saved a man’s life. Now it’s time to find who this dog belongs to before I get to attached. I walked down the street away from my office, but now with a new companion. The dog’s nubby tail waved at the air, swatting away at weeks of insecurity and fear.
“Now you are safe my friend. Let’s go get a bite to eat”
The words seemed to echo from my mouth onto the dog and back again, almost as if the dog spoke to me.
