A Daring Dog

That’s just it doc, it’s a struggle for me to be around the guy. Like I have this overwhelming sense of obligation or loyalty. He was my buddy and close friend through so much. He was there to help me move when my life fell apart. He was always someone to hang with, or talk to, when I needed. Never one to turn a friend down, he would honestly split his last dollar. Shit doc, the guy was even there to help me save my dog from a second story plummet.

Dr. Walsh: How so?

I used to have the best dog in the world, and I mean that quite literally. A beautiful reverse brindle boxer mix, Ace. When he was just a pup of two, his separation anxiety would overwhelm him. To the point I had to keep him kenneled whenever he was alone. (The years of this could be a novel by itself)

Intermittently testing him on short trips or store runs. Every few weeks I would leave him out to see how he did. This usually didn’t go so well, specifically in his earlier years. Once upon a time I dated a woman, one I had a crush on since high school. Being the emotional retard that I am, it ended.

The whole thing was a shit show. Long and short of it is: she told me she was taking a nap, and that she loved me. Unaware I had gotten out of work early, I was about twenty minutes from home when she told me. Upon my entrance to the driveway, I noticed that she wasn’t home. Going inside I called her. She didn’t answer. Calling a second time, she answers somewhat out of breath.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Out for a walk why?”

“Huh that’s funny…you usually take your car on walks?”

Silence.

“You’re with him aren’t you?”

“Yes..” she answered, embarrassed.

“Get your fucking ass home right now, we need to talk.”

Without dragging the story on too much further, she got home, and I told her it was over. That I loved her but obviously couldn’t trust her. That she was lying about the overtime she was working, because it wasn’t on her paystub. That I loved her but couldn’t trust her and couldn’t be with her.

Dr. Walsh: Sounds like a mature way to process the information.

I handled it the best I knew how. Either way, after all this, I moved to a small second story studio apartment, just me and my pup.

A couple months later, she and I were arguing on the phone about something. Stuck in the trenches of my own emotional warfare. Overwhelmed, I chuck my phone against the wall like a true genius. Filled with self loathing and stupidity, I had to use the voice command to call Mitch, at the time a good friend, who’d just moved back to town. Usually he was free, so I went to pick him up. Thinking it's better to chat with a pal than wallow in my own self-hatred.

The first time in the new place that I tested Ace. Leaving the A/C off and two windows open, in a second-floor apartment. Again, like a genius. Ace has a history of jumping out of windows.

A couple of spring thaws before, in my trailer on Preemption, he jumped out of the top window of those old, triple pane, roll out, trailer windows. My neighbor had called to tell me. When I got back, he had destroyed his kennel, used the back of the couch to get to the window. Broke it out by climbing on it. Then jumped out of it, nine feet off the ground. He then proceeded to run all over the landscape, in a desperate search for his human. Preemption is a main route into the city of Geneva. He taunted death as he scrambled all over hells half acre. Dodging the wheels of semi-trucks by inches. Running from me, thinking now, that he was in trouble.

I digress. The night Mitch came back to the house, I was gone ten whole minutes. Pulling up in front of the old brick apartment building on main street, we jump out of the truck and walk toward the door. Just before the sidewalk I hear Mitch yell: “Ace Stay!”

Looking up to see my sixty-five-pound boxer, outside of the second-floor window. The building has a six-inch reveal that stretches across the front elevation. Sticking out of the brick wall maybe one or two hands wide. It could be likened to a shelf running just below the second floor windows. Not only was he standing out there looking confused, and scared, he had also broken through the middle window and climbed out. Walking past the end window with the a/c unit, to the end of the shelf, three four feet past the last window.

Damn near shitting myself, not thinking about anything else. I Looked at Mitch and said: “I don’t care what happens to me, DON’T LET THAT DOG HIT PAVEMENT!”

“I Got you brother.”

Darting through the front entrance and up the stairs, in a full sprint. The hall turned left to my door. Keys already in hand I slide it in the deadbolt and throw the door open. Leaving the keys hanging right there, I ran inside. Standing in front of the window closest to the dog, Im looking at my air conditioner with one and a quarter inch screws holding it in place. Still relying entirely on instinct, adrenaline, and love for my pup. I grabbed front of the unit and picked it up. As I did, the window went up with it. Twisting my arms around, I muscle the unit out of the window, and toss it on the floor. Breaking the plastic around the screws. With the a/c gone and the window open, I lean out to see my pup, terrified, scared to even look back. Firmly, I said: “Ace. You Stay.” And he did.

Knowing I had to get out there and get him back inside, I throw one leg right out of the window, letting it dangle over the sidewalk below. Using my right leg, still anchored inside the window, to hold me tight. I reach out for the dog, not quite able to grab him. Moving my left leg toward him, I wrap it around outside end of the sill. Looking for any way to steady myself and get closer. Two thirds of me hanging outside of the window at this point. My entire upper body, plus one of my legs, dangling eighteen twenty feet off the concrete. I manage to get my right hand on his collar. Using my left to keep his body pushed into the wall. One leg is the only thing stopping us from our twenty-foot descent. I slowly start to inch him backwards towards me. Working him closer to the window. Feeling my left foot slip, I push him into the wall, as I fall forward, and poop a little. Finding the ledge that Ace was on, I push myself back a few inches. Slowly working him backwards into my body.

Finally feeling my back against the other side of the window frame, and his spine in my stomach. I wrap one hand tightly around his collar, the other his waist. Picking him up and pulling his body into mine, I duck my head, and roll us both back inside the window. Safe.

The a/c sits in the middle of the floor leaking water on the carpet. I lay on the floor catching my breath. He jumps up, and spins around to lick my face. The screen from the window is mangled and torn, flopping around the cool evening breeze. All I could do was rub him behind his ears and pull him close, so thankful he’s alive. Mitch comes running through the door. “Holy shit dude, When I saw your foot slip out there, I thought for sure I had to catch you both.”

“Thanks, someone’s god that you didn’t brother, and thank you for being here.”

Dr. Walsh: That must have been quite an experience. So how does this play into your struggle with your friendship?

Oh, it doesn’t doc, I just wanted to tell a story about my pup.