red dog

we are at the end of our walk, heading up seventh avenue, busy with shops and kids getting out of school and other folks with their dogs snuffling the chewing gum and cigarette butts on the pavement. guthrie has a toy and is focused, staring straight ahead. he knows where we are, knows where to turn and where to cross the street. he is single-minded.

i do not notice her at first but she is a small red dachshund coming abreast of guthrie, glancing over at him as she falls in step. she leans over and noses his belly and i ready myself for growls and snapping. he is nasty to dogs. he is vicious to long, low, short-legged dogs. when he turns to glare at her i tighten up the leash and am surprised he is not lunging for her, swinging from the end of the leash like a broken yo yo. he stares. i do not know what he sees but i see max. not max exactly, but a dog with his unflappable presence. she stares back, noses him again. he does not bite her. he does not growl. i hear myself apologizing to the man on the other end of this dog's leash for something that hasn't yet happened.

guthrie turns back toward home and walks. she trots beside him and stares straight ahead. he does the same. the man tells me when she saw guthrie she pulled at the leash and wouldn't stop until she got up next to him. he says he just adopted her, that she's seven. i tell him we adopted an older dog and go on about how great it is. he asks about the dog and i find myself having trouble with the words. it takes me a second to tell him max died and the words sound funny when i say them. too loud. maybe because this is not what you say to a stranger. i can feel stupid tears scratching the backs of my eyes and i am mad at how that dog still makes me cry every time i think about him. i want to tell this man how hard max lived his later years, how much he lived them. how he went on hikes and was fierce at catch. i want to reassure this man that he has so much time with this little animal. i tell him how we got max to help calm down guthrie and intend to say more but i can't stop watching these two dogs. guthrie never looks over at the red dog but when a woman walking toward us steps between them, they both veer wildly apart then snap back together, a yoked team.

i do not think guthrie thinks she is max. i do not even think, as many people would, that he "likes" her. but she is calm and she breathes slowly. her feet move without any hesitation. she is able to be in the world in a way guthrie cannot yet figure out and i think it is not so difficult for him to walk there next to a dog like that, like what he used to have. guthrie is a dog and i don't think he misses max. i'm not even sure he remembers max in a meaningful way. but i do think that what was important about max is in his head. how he was easy to walk next to, easy to curl up by. this is, at least in part, what makes me walk next to the sweetie. his calm blankets my constant frantic spinning. and i know this is good. the animal part of me that doesn't think knows. just like guthrie knows. no matter how scattered i get he is there. and guthrie deserves the same thing.

we do not have room in our apartment for a new dog right now and i have not had room in my head or my heart, i suppose, but i did not want max when the sweetie first showed me his photo. i promised i would not love him. now, seeing guthrie walking today with that little dog, watching him lose his wariness and hostility, i realize i need to get ready. it is close to time to get my heart broken all over again.