Tan, Spot, Oreo and Midnight

It was a cold, winter afternoon, a Sunday. My husband took the kids on an outing just so I could have some me time. So, what to do? Clean house? Nah, I do that every day. Read? Maybe. How about a run? It had been months since I ran. I used to run regularly; I even trained for marathons. Today’s temperature hovered around the mid-thirties; cuddling up with a good book and reading uninterrupted was sounding better by the minute.

Stop being a wuss, go for a walk, already.

Sometimes, it’s good to listen to the voice inside your head.

***

Thirty minutes later, I embarked on my walk appropriately dressed and warmed up for a cold weather stroll. The air was crisp, not too terribly cold. I hadn’t quite decided how far I would walk or which route I would take. Normally, five kilometers (also known as 3.1 miles) is good enough. I turned on to a side street. The neighborhood I live in isn’t exactly an ideal one; several vacant properties in varying degrees of dilapidation populate the area, even though there is a major university in the vicinity. I neared one house on my left on the verge of collapse; the front stoop was still intact. Two dogs had taken up residence; they spied me and hurried off their stoop, barking furiously. I pretended not to see them, hoping they would not perceive me as a threat. They began to chase me; I kept the same pace, continuing to ignoring them. For a moment, I wondered if I would have to use the pepper spray I carried for defense. I’ve never been bitten by a dog before; I usually get along with most dogs. The barking ceased when I turned off their street and onto a main thoroughfare.

***

A quarter of a mile in, I was going at a moderately brisk pace. Following a short distance behind me were the two dogs that chased me earlier. Gradually, the tan one strode confidently by my side; the white dog with black spots eventually caught up. Why were these two dogs who didn’t want me on their street suddenly following me? Perhaps they were stalking me as prey? I would know for sure when I encountered the intersection ahead.

The walk symbol flashed after I pressed the pedestrian button. Still, I ran in the crosswalk, canine company in tow. We reached the half mile point of our journey, the university loomed ahead with all kinds of walking paths to explore. I glanced at my walking partners, wondering how long they would stick around. They looked up at me as if to say, “Where to?” I wished I had some Milk Bones or something to give them. They were docile, sweet dogs who just craved human company. Occasionally, people would walk past us; Tan would greet them, only to be ignored or treated unkindly, which saddened me. All he wanted was a little compassion, some acknowledgement of his presence in this sometimes cold, cruel world.

***

Two miles in, darkness descended, marking the time for us to return home. Tan and Spot found some scraps of food to nibble on opposite the black metal fence we walked along. Tan rushed to my side when I began walking in the opposite direction. Spot seemed perplexed; she forgot how to get around the fence. Tan raced back to her, gracefully maneuvering between the bars, showing her the way. For whatever reason, she wasn’t comprehending. I watched in amusement as Tan patiently demonstrated the way out a few more times, then he decided she needed to figure it out on her own and caught up to me. Concerned, I kept looking back, wondering if Spot would find ever her way. Eventually, she caught up. The three of us continued along the parkway, back on to the main drag, back onto the side street. They bounded to their stoop and reclined, panting. I said goodbye, then walked the short distance home.

We never walked together again after that. Occasionally, I would see them; then one day, no more. Such is life for stray dogs in the ‘hood. They run the risk of getting hit by speeding cars, or being used as “bait” to train fighting dogs. I grew up around that disgusting culture. Why would anyone would make animals fight to the death for money? I would have happily rescued them, but my husband is allergic to dogs; there was no persuading him at that time. My girls begged for a dog; having fish as pets wasn’t good enough.

***

Years later, some neighbors vacated their rental home and abandoned two, year-old pit bull puppies. Immediately, the girls interceded, feeding them table scraps and setting water out for them. The puppies wreaked havoc on trash bins and bags on garbage pick-up days, strewing trash along our street, which did not endear them to our neighbors. My tender hearted husband called several shelters; none were willing to take them in. Some insurance companies will cancel your homeowners’ policy if you have pit bulls as pets; there are even some towns that have an outright ban in place. One viable option remained: we would become dog owners. Both puppies were malnourished and mangy, so we had them treated by a vet. The girls named them Oreo and Midnight.

Oreo is the larger of the two. He looks intimidating, but he’s friendly, laid-back and hates bad weather. Once, he broke his tether during a thunderstorm. We found him standing in the rain, waiting for us to return from work and school. When I opened the car door, he jumped in my lap, wanting to be held. He’s really just a big puppy. His sister Midnight is affectionate and quite active; she acts as our protector. When unfamiliar people or dogs approach, she growls or barks. Oreo gets more attention because of his soulful hazel eyes and stocky build. However, Midnight is just as striking with her unusual ears and lustrous black coat.

Having dogs this young does present challenges. They dug up our backyard; the lush lawn no longer exists. They chew everything around them; my poor porch swing is Oreo's chew toy. The extra bills for their food and healthcare eat away at our budget. Oreo has allergies, which is not unusual for his breed. When we first got them, I kept my distance, basically because I wanted the girls to assume full responsibility as they promised. One day after I finished walking, I noticed my leggings were covered with seed pods; there seemed to be hundreds of them. I sat on the front steps and began the arduous task of picking them off. The girls came around along with the dogs. Upon noticing my seed-pod infested leggings, the dogs immediately licked my legs in an effort to help. They had my heart right then. I shudder to think what would have become of them had we not rescued them.

Our family is now complete.