So I was back to being alone.īe careful, Metal Matt warned. Leila too exhausted, Terrance too overwhelmed. But each hookup just kind of petered out during the lockdown. I was gleefully light with both, asking lots of questions, listening intently, texting back consistently, never needing anything too much. To cheer me up, he set me up with Leila, a middle-aged divorcée looking for something loose and safe, after her child’s bedtime, and Terrance, a middle school teacher, looking for occupational commiseration while drinking beers naked on weekends.
Metal Matt knew I still hurt about being called heavy. We chose a picture of Brucebruce against a white wall, his red tongue hanging out of his mouth like he was dying of thirst, text reading: Do you know my person? ( Nothing should be owned, I thought, after first writing the word owner. I made flyers with my best friend Metal Matt, who had a dog named Sabbath and so was concerned for Brucebruce’s well-being. Brucebruce ate and then curled up at my feet. I had a bag of leftover kitty food and grabbed a bowl for water. We walked side by side to my backyard cottage. I could feel the coarse hair, the subtle shift in weight as the dog leaned into my hand. I reached out cautiously and touched his head. He said nothing, but he moved closer to me and sat. I promise never to tie you up and you can leave anytime you want to, but if you stay with me, you have to. I felt like I needed to say something important or that I needed to explain myself. He stepped to me again, ears up the piece of whatever had fallen. I took off my belt to use as a temporary leash, but Brucebruce bounded backward, ears immediately retracted in distrust. He had this piece of rubbish hanging from his muzzle. I decided to act.īrucebruce, I called, because who can forget a name like that, and the dog strolled up to me like we were old friends. It felt like a sign, a chance for confirmation or redemption or just proof that I didn’t do anything wrong. He was making do like all of us.īut I walked by a few days later and saw him again in the exact same spot, meandering in little circles, head down, looking for food. I had assumed the worst: mangy and matted. But what was there to say? He looked good: clean, the whites in his fur still white, ears up and eager. He was sitting about twenty feet from the benches that various local soccer teams occupied, leaving behind them a trail of edible rubbish: discarded chicken bones, paper plates with beans and rice. So a few months later, when I saw Brucebruce at Josie de la Cruz Park, I stopped walking and stared in disbelief, feeling a bit to blame. That evening, I finally beat my brother for the first time in weeks, but there was no pleasure in it. I worried I might have put the dog in more danger despite my best intentions. I immediately realized how selfish it was: to let something go, to assume its safety. Like, how could I just let some animal run wild on the busy streets of East Oakland and think, in any way, that what I’d done was a good thing? But when I told my brother during our weekly chess nights-also over Zoom-he was aghast.
LITTLE HOMIES HOW TO
I didn’t think about releasing the dog too much over the next few days because I was focused on figuring out how to teach my after-school science class for middle schoolers over Zoom.
LITTLE HOMIES FREE
The dog sprinted away feral and free across Fruitvale Avenue traffic. So while the owner ordered, I untied the handmade leash. After I got my lemon chicken and chow mein dinner plate, I walked up to Brucebruce, who raised his ears like yes, you absolutely should. So when I saw that dog just trying his best, just wanting to be safe, to do the right thing, it put me in some kind of mood. I had just been dumped because my partner wanted things light. The dog tucked his ears back, yanked at the yellow nylon rope he was tied up with, and then-I swear-looked right at me. He yelled, Stay, and the dog, tan and white with a muzzle covered in wiry hair, sat or stood with each blow. I heard the guy screaming his name, Brucebruce, and slapping his muzzle with a rolled-up East Bay Express. Okay, well, abandoned might be a bit drastic and adopted might be too euphemistic.Īt the beginning of the pandemic, I freed this dog when I saw him tied up to the door of China Buffet. After my foster cats Ratty and Balls abandoned me to live with my neighbor-who always fed them canned tuna, so, really, who can blame them-I adopted Brucebruce.