The dog in the subway

When I was 20 years old, I lived away from home for the first time, so I got a dog as a companion, and it was Bao Fu. Although he weighed more than me and had a mouthful of sharp teeth, he was so gentle that wherever I went, I felt safe as long as he was around.

In order to have free time during the day and enjoy a leisurely walk in the park, I chose a night job in downtown Boston from 4pm to midnight, the downside was that I had to take the subway home in the middle of the night. I learned over time that being detached is an important part of survival, and I always avoided eye contact and carried a book with me at all times to read on the train.

One night after work, I was ready to go home. Usually I would take the Red Line at Park Street Station, get off at Andrews Station, and walk the six blocks to see Balfour waiting patiently at home.

That night was different.

Before I got into the station, I tried to dig in my pocket for the only token-type ticket I had left, but found nothing in my pocket, so I had to go to the ticket counter to buy a ticket.

With only a few trains left before the last train at 1 a.m., I walked up to the ticket counter, pulled out a dollar bill and said, "One ticket, please."

Subway riders don't usually notice the ticket counter next to the entrance, so it's not unusual for me not to pay much attention to the conductor in the thick glasses when I buy a ticket. But he paid close attention to me.

As he pushed the ticket and change out the window, he said, "Hey, do you want a dog?"

His sudden question left me speechless for a moment, and it took him a moment to ask, very uncertainly, "Excuse me ...... do you want a dog?" He repeated again.

He shifted his eyes down and pointed down the counter with his chin, and I leaned forward to realize that he was referring to a small, furry mass, a beagle with a messy coat, and I watched as the dog's body trembled slightly, but his eyes seemed to say, "Yes, what's your problem?"

I was a little startled, but being an animal lover, I had some difficulty.

"Where did it come from?" I asked.

"It's a stray dog that showed up around 8:00." The ticket clerk carried the dog to the counter and gently stroked the fur behind its ears.

"He has a collar, but no name tag, and no one has come here to claim him, and my shift is almost over."

My sanity told me that adopting this stray dog was kind, but impossible, because if I took it home, what would happen to Bauford?

The ticket clerk saw a glimmer of hope in my expression and continued, "I asked everyone who passed by, but no one wanted to take it home."

I asked him, "What about you?"

He laughed at that and said, "Me? No, honey, my wife would kill me."

I couldn't take my eyes off the dog, how did it get here? Why didn't someone come and take the poor little thing back?

The ticket clerk issued an ultimatum: "You know, if you don't take it away, I'll have to let it back on the street at the end of the day."

I couldn't believe it! "How can you let it go back to the street? This is downtown! It'll get killed, it'll starve to death, it ...... is still so small ......"

He explained that in a few more trains he would be off duty and he could neither leave it in the ticket office nor take it home; in other words, I was the dog's last hope.

I began to hesitate, and both the conductor and the dog sensed it. God, what should I do?

The conductor and I looked at each other and time suddenly became slow.

Finally I sighed, "Is it a boy or a girl?"

He flashed a smile and said, "Girl."

I shook my head and said with less determination, "But I don't have a leash."

"No problem, I'll figure it out, there's a leash here, which is actually pretty sturdy, what stop do you want to get off at?"

"Andrews Station."

"Great! That's only four stops. Don't worry, this twine will definitely last you until you get home."

The ticket agent, his face flushed with excitement, opened the heavy door of the ticket office and gleefully handed me my new pet, who said with relief, "Thank you so much, I really didn't want him back on the street."

The dog and I began to look at each other.

The ticket clerk was banging his head on the sidelines, "You guys are great together!"

Then he opened the station entrance so I didn't have to pay to get in, with a satisfied smile on his face.

I led the dog down the stairs to the next subway platform, all the while speaking to my new friend in a soft tone, "It's going to be okay, you're going to be fine." I assured it.

I had actually mentally named it when the conductor told me it was a girl-I was going to call it Phyllis, inspired by the wildly messy-haired comedienne Phyllis Diller, and secretly smiled at how well named it was. I said to him, "Oh, Phyllis, we'll meet the Balfour in a minute."

I stepped onto the dirty platforms everywhere with my new friend. Park Street Station is one of the largest and busiest stations in Boston, so it doesn't have two platforms like other stations, but three, one for Dorchester and the other side for Cambridge and Harvard Square, with the middle platform used as a transfer station.

Phyllis and I stood together, the rope the conductor gave me connecting us, amidst the applause and cheers all around us. For a moment, we were no longer strangers in a big city late at night, and in this brief moment together, we both felt the joy and fulfillment of the happy ending to our story.