Dog Park

“What is he, a wino?”
“Roll him over.”
“Whoa, look at the blood.”
“Get his wallet.”
Get your hands out of my pockets! Stop! Move. Can’t. Can’t move! Why won’t my eyes open? So cold.
“Shit, someone done did him already.”
Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff-rruff-rruff.
“It’s that crazy fucking dog!”
Scuffling. Grrrr-rruff-rruff-rruff. Footfalls running off. Grrrr-rruff. Grrrr-rruff. His cheek in the snow. Rrruff. Icy. Rrruff. Shivers. Damn! Rrruff. Teeth chattering. What happened to the barks? Shiv-shiv-shivering. Come back, please!

~~~~~
Hot breath on his cheek. Rrrarn-rrrarn. Grrun-grumn. A snort of air and then a splash of snot hits his forehead and face. Teeth clench his collar and his back slides along the snow. What the fuck? Rrrarn-rrrarn. The teeth jerk his collar. He slides a few more inches in the snow. Hot breath wafts over him. Bad breath. Far away someone calls: “Rascal. Ras-cal! Where you? Come here boy.”
Rrruff. Rrr-rrruff-rrruff.
No, boy, he tries to say, don’t leave me! But his lips won’t move.

~~~~~

Arr-rrorow. Arr-rrorow. A raspy tongue licking. Slobber dripping on his cheek. Dog breath. Hot. His leg wet against the snow. Shivers. Can’t stop shivering. Wuff. My eyes, can’t open my eyes. Wuff. Snow, I’m still lying in snow. Shivers. Wuff. Wuff. Licks. He tries to roll away. Can’t move. Wuff.
“Rascal. Come here, Rascal!” A woman’s voice. Russian accent?
Wuff. Where am I? What’s happened? Can’t raise my head. A stabbing behind the eyes makes him flinch. Harrr-rrruff. Shivering. Harrr-rrruff. Chattering.
“Rascal! Away! Get away from him!”
The dog licks his face. Whines. Licks. Can’t move, just shiver.
“Rascal! Don’t!”
Rrruff-harrr. Rrrruff-harrr.
“Where am I?” That croaking! My voice!
“What?”
She heard me! “Where is this?”
“Dog park.”
“What?”
Whining and licking. The slobber hot.
“Rascal, stop. Oh! Oh, my god. Too much blood!”
Rrruff-harrr. Shivering uncontrollably on his back in the wet snow. Slobber on his cheek. Rrruff-harrr. Whine.
“Chicago?” He asks.
“What?”
“Am I in Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“I’m hurt,” he says. “I can’t move. Can’t open my eyes.”
“What?”
“Where’s my luggage?”
“What?”
“Help me. Will you please help me?”
“I get you help,” she says. Then: “Rascal! Come here. Now!”
Rrrruff. Rrrruff-rrrruff.
“Rascal, come!”
Grrr-rrruff.
“Let him stay, please!”
“I get help. Rascal!”
“Don’t leave me alone, please!”
Rrruff-harrr. As long as I can hear the barking I’ll be okay.

~~~~~

Leaving the hotel’s warm foyer behind, Taskton had shuffled and pushed through the gilded revolving doors and exited into a stiff draught of snowflakes that stung his eyes. Blinking, he’d approached the fancy-jacketed and top-hatted bellman directing the flow at the cabstand.
“Where to?” The bellman had asked.
“O’Hare,” Taskton said.
“Take a town car? Same price as a cab.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Taskton had followed the bellman to a dark blue Lincoln at the head of the line of cars. The driver popped the trunk and went around to open the passenger door.
“Need help with your bag?” The bellman had asked.
“I don’t need any help, Taskton had said and swung his suitcase up and into the trunk and went to the rear door the driver had left open for him.
As Taskton had ducked to enter the car he’d felt a sharp searing pain alongside his right temple and fallen face first across the seat.

~~~~~

Rascal lay next to him whining and occasionally barking.
Those punks found nothing. My wallet’s gone. Phone gone. Laptop must be gone. Luggage, too. The cabbie? Bellman? What the fuck happened to me? Why am I here? And where? Chicago, she said. Still. A dog park?
“Rascal, you there?”
Wuff. Whining and licking.
Good boy.

~~~~~

The cab. No. Before that, even. Recriminations. Now, regrets. Why wouldn’t I listen! “You’re always traveling,” she’d said. “Send someone else. Please!” she’d said. “I need you here more than that fucking company needs you there.” Didn’t listen! That hug. That desperate hug!
A wet nose nuzzles his cheek. Ah, Rascal!
“You stayed with me.”
Wuff.
What is this? Penance? Payback? Some Comeuppence? “What you say, boy?”
Grrr-rruff.
“I know. It’s the shits.”
Paw scratching at the snow next to his shoulder.
“Hope she’s coming back.” Who else will come for me?
Wuff.
“Too many mistakes I’ve made.”
Whine.
“You too? What you’d do? Chase the kids?”
Wuff.
“Those punks knew you.”
Grrr-rruff. Lick. Wuff.
“Forgiveness. There’s a concept.”
Whine.
“I’d forgive them.” Would I? “Given the chance, yeah.”
Paw scratching. Whimpering.
“Would anyone forgive me, though?”
Wuff. Lick. Whine.
“Start with yourself, you say.”
Paw scratching at his sleeve.
“Why no shivers?” Not good, that.
Licks.
Slobber me, you Rascal!
Lick. Lick. Whine. Whimpering. Lick.
A car goes by. The headlights sweeping across the snow. A brief cacophony. Tires on pavement. Pebbles kicking up. A plastic water bottle rolling and bouncing against the curb.
“Rascal?” You there, boy?
Whine.
Keep me company.
Wuff. Licks. Warm wet nose on his cheek.
Yip-yip-yip-howwoooll.
Ahhh.
Rrruff-rrruff. Howwoooolll.
Panting. Lick. Sigh.
Yes.