It happened when I was sitting in the food court of the concourse below the office building where I work. I was seated at a table for two. I usually do, even though I eat alone, because it enables me to spread out and read my book. So it surprised me beyond words when someone hauled the chair out, plunked down, and said, "Hi! What are you reading?"
I looked up into the face of a dog of no easily-discernible breed. Female, judging from the voice and something about the face. She had grey eyes, which were fixed intensively on mine.
I didn't know what else to do. So I said, "Music for Chameleons, by Truman Capote..."
"Is it good?"
"Yes, it's very good, so far. Uh... can I help you with something?"
She smiled, her tail wagging behind her, as she leaned onto her paws, elbows on the table. "I was just wondering about your book is all."
Off behind her I could see one of the mall guards sauntering by the ATMs, watching her out of the corners of his eyes. I began to suspect she wasn't here with anyone. She had no collar; her feet were filthy. No, clearly, she was a stray. Terrific. I knew any sign she was unwelcome would be enough to get her removed. I'm not sure why I didn't; she certain was unwelcome at my table, interrupting my lunch, my reading. But there was just something too predatory about the guard's look. Keeping my eyes on him, I said, "Do you, uh... do you read?"
"A little," she said. "Mostly signs and labels and things. But I love magazines! So what's the book about?"
"Oh, a number of things," I said. "People wishing for magic, people having affairs, solving murders..."
"I like the magic part," she opined. "What do they wish for?"
"Well, a little boy wishes to be a girl," I said. The guard cruised out of sight. I relaxed a bit.
She read this instantly. "Is he gone?" she said, softly.
"Yeah. Yeah, he's gone," I said. "For now."
"I needed... a friend," she said, casting her eyes down. "Thank you."
"It's alright," I said. I noticed her downcast eyes had latched onto my half-eaten pita and could not break away. In spite of myself I said, "Are you hungry?"
I hoped her pride would back her away, but instead, without ever lifting her eyes, she nodded, very softly. She was wringing the thumb of one of her paws with the stubby fingers of the other so tightly that I thought she might break it. Trapped, I said, "Would like part of this?"
"Yes," she said, so softly I only saw her mouth move, her voice lost in the hubbub of the food court.
With a sigh I hoped she couldn't hear, I wiped my hands on a napkin and proceeded to carefully tear what was left of my lunch into two halves. I put one on a napkin and set it in front of her. I waited to see her wolf it down.
She smiled at it, wagging, as though it were alive; a puppy or a kitten or something. Then she looked up at me and said, "What about the magic?"
"Huh? What?"
"Does the little boy get his wish?"
"Who—Oh. No. No, he doesn't."
She was visibly crestfallen. "Oh."
"Go ahead," I said. "Please."
She brightened a little and picked up the morsel in both paws. She didn't gulp it down. She took a bite; chewing it, savouring it. She actually closed her eyes.
I watched her for a moment. Looked at my book. Looked at her again. My book. I noticed she was nearing the end of piece I'd given her. Resigned to it, I pushed the tray with the remaining half, not to mention the complimentary oatmeal cookie, across the table to her. She smiled, wagging so happily she seemed to wiggle.
"Well," I said, closing my book, "I'd better get back." It was a lie, of course; I was nowhere near late. But I decided to nip it in the bud. "Take care," I said.
"But, wait!" she said, half-rising. She caught sight of the guard and quickly seated herself again. "What's your name?" she called to me.
I waved and smiled over my shoulder.
"I'm Annie!" she called. "But I don't have to be..."
I tried not to walk too fast as I made my way to the elevator. Alone, I exhaled, shook my head. When I stepped onto the elevator, I was alone. At the last moment, a woman jammed her way between the closing doors and stepped in with me, reeking of so much perfume I felt I would have been justified in farting just so we could cancel each other out. She might have stepped off four floors later but the olfactory assault she'd laid down kept up the fight in her absence. I only wondered what it would have done to that dog down in the food court.
But the memory of her bothered me for the rest of the day. I'm Annie, but I don't have to be... What did that mean? I was angry with that dog for presuming, putting me in awkward positions, taking advantage of my nature. For making me feel bad. The memory of her robbed dinner that evening of some of its usual visceral joy. I went to bed and woke up afraid that I'd see her again.
As it turned out, I didn't. But I did notice, really notice for the first time, the handful of other dogs in the food court; maybe a half a dozen of them. The ones I noticed did have collars, brushed coats, clean feet. Typically they sat opposite someone or with a group of human workers, or they were sitting at small tables with trays of food in front of them, looking around expectantly, testing the air with their noses for something they felt they would scent before they would see. I watched a beagle light up as a business-suited woman sat down opposite him and the two of them began to lunch. The guards didn't seem to take much notice of these dogs. Not the way they had Annie.
I ate about half my lunch, deciding I wasn't that hungry. Read my book. Looked around. The place was thinning out. I read for a little longer than I should have—the tale was engrossing—then wrapped up the other half and headed for the elevator. Took one last look around the food court, and with a shrug, headed up. Just as well, I thought. I wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to risk spending the next twenty years of my life or so meeting a homeless mutt for lunch anyway.
I went home to water my plants and straighten the bookshelves.
I got back to my routine. Including my book and my place at my usual table at lunch the next day.
Then she was beside me, above me. Wagging tail uncertainly. "Hi... remember me? Annie?"
I couldn't stop myself from turning slightly. I wanted to say something. She quickly stepped in front of me, holding up her paws in a halting gesture. "I don't want to take anything from you," she said. "I just wanted somebody to talk to for a while."
I waved my hand beside my book; I began, "I just—"
Her eyes shot from my face to something behind me. She cringed back, slightly. The guard from the other day appeared and prodded her with his nightstick. "You," he said. “I told you yesterday. Move along. Back up to the street."
I don't know why I did it. Pity? Anger at the officiousness, the arrogance, the inhumanity? In any case, before I knew it, I'd said it. "She's with me."
The guard turned and glared at me for a moment. I met his stare. After a couple of seconds, I straightened, my brow knitting just a hair. These subtle signals, of course, communicated the message, Is there some problem with that? Moreover, there was another layer to it, even deeper. There was a pissing contest going on here: territorial imperative vs. socio-economic dominance.
Annie stood stock still, only her eyes moving, darting back and forth between me and the guard.
He gave a curt nod, affected an air of indifference, and moved on. I saw Annie sag slightly. I indicated the chair opposite me with my eyes and she slipped down into it.
She glanced out of the sides of her eyes behind herself. “Thank you,” she said. She was shivering. “You’re really brave,” she told me.
“I don’t like people being pushed around,” I said.
She smiled, wagged her tail a bit. She thought of a topic of conversation. “Have any wishes in the book been granted?”
“Not really. Not so far.” I looked at my nearly finished lunch. “I’m not going to offer you this,” I said. “But I’ll get you something if you like.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head so firmly her ears flapped. “Honest, I didn’t come for that. I wanted to ask you about your book.”
But she couldn’t help looking at my sandwich.
“It’s okay,” I said. I almost smiled. “What would you like...?”
She fidgeted. She tried to be polite and true to her word. But hunger can be humbling. “Maybe one of those?” she said, softly, glancing at my sandwich.
“Coming up,” I said, rising. I pushed the book towards her. “See if you can find any wishes. Just don’t lose my place, okay?”
She beamed at me, nodding.
I stepped up to the counter at the sub shop and repeated my order. As I stood there, I gazed back at Annie. She was flipping through the pages, wagging softly at the book as if it were a living thing. I watched her peer into it, concentrating, then wagging in self-congratulations when she'd evidently understood a hard word. Every so often she'd poke her nose into the book and scent it.
The guy behind the counter finished making the sandwich. I bought a bag of chips and, without knowing if she’d like it or not, I gambled on a can of pop. I paid and carried the tray back to her. She raised her head from the book at my approach.
"A lot of people have had this book," she told me, easing it back to me.
"It's a library book," I told her.
"Ah!" she said. "I thought so. But it's not the library I sometimes go into."
"I live across town," I told her.
She nodded. I supposed her nose had told her that, too.
"What were you reading?" I asked, setting the tray before her and sitting down.
She ignored the food and grabbed the book again, flipping through the pages as quickly as she dared without risking dislodging my bookmark. Clearing her throat, she sat up straight, and running her stubby finger under the lines, slowly recited: “It just means more sil... silllleee... cone, more bills from Oree...ren...tr... tree... itch. I’d rather see the human wrinkles. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We all, sometimes, leave each other out there under the skies, and we never understand why.”
She looked up at me, smiling, clearly very proud of herself. “That means something,” she told me. “Something important. But I’m not sure what, exactly. It just makes me feel sad. I like when reading makes me feel something.”
“That was really very good,” I said. “Where did you learn to read?”
“Started with a little girl in a school yard. Her name was Tammy. She used to give me her apple because she didn’t like apples. But only after I practiced reading. Every day at recess. Then summer came and they all went away...”
“Eat,” I prompted her.
She nodded, hefting the sandwich and taking a bite. “Thank you,” she said through a mouthful of food.
I let her eat for a bit, then I asked, “So Annie,” I said. “Annie what?”
She paused. I saw her make a conscious effort not to look sad. “Nothing,” she replied, “...just Annie.” It confirmed my worst suspicions.
“So that little girl, Tammy... you didn’t live with her?”
She shook her head. “Never lived with anyone. Except my mom. Then one day I came back from playing and she was just gone. I don’t know why.”
“Is she the one who called you Annie?”
She smiled, wistful. Momentarily no longer able to eat. She nodded softly, her eyes far away. “She heard a song one day, outside a store. When we were living in the alley. It was about a boat called Annie. Later on I heard it. I think it was the same song.” She leaned forward. “It was about me. It really was about me! How did they know?”
“Sometimes life’s like that. Go on, eat.”
She went back to eating, but without as much gusto. “I’m getting kinda full,” she said. Then, sheepishly, “Can I... take away the rest?”
“Of course,” I said. “Eat it this evening.”
“Oh, thank you. I’d never find anything like this!”
That stung. The idea that she would ordinarily be picking through.... whatever... troubled me. An idea crossed my mind, and I thought I’d test the waters. "Are you going to be back here tomorrow?"
"Yes... sure!" she said.
I reached for my wallet. I took out a bill and showed it to her. "Do you know how much money this is?"
She nodded. "Twenty dollars," she said. Her eyes were focused intently on it.
I set it on the table and gently pushed it across at her. "If you're going to be here tomorrow, I'd like you to order me the same thing as I had the other day. It's a pita, from that place there, and they call it the Fiesta Mexicali."
"Fiesta... Mexi... ca... got it," she said.
"That'll cost about eight dollars," I said. "You can spend the rest on whatever you'd like to eat. I need to go back up now," I told her. "So... I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You bet!" she enthused, and squeezed the bill in her paw up into a mangled ball.
I nodded, and headed off. "Bye!" she called. I waved over my shoulder, wondering if, steeling myself for the likelihood that, it was the last I'd see of her, or the money.
There are always buskers in the subway station in my neighbourhood at the end of the day. More often than not, it's a guy and his dog. Coming home that day was the first time I took real notice of them. He was a thin, middle-aged, scraggly kind of dude in long hair and sunglasses who might have been a biker except for his cheerful demeanor. She was a pretty German shepherd with bright yellow eyes and a red kerchief around her neck. She was tuning his guitar, one ear pricked, as he set up his amp and speakers. There was a tambourine at her feet. They sang together; I'd heard them before in passing. She had a gravelly voice but it was a nice complement to his, smooth and booming. In his guitar case I saw a dozen copies of their CD for sale. Posed together, they beamed out from the case; Kim and Sal, it said above them. I wondered which was which. The shepherd caught my eye with hers; she smiled at me, wagging her tail. I'm not sure why, but I winked at her.
She winked back. I wondered what she knew.
At home, after supper, I dug out it: a cassette tape I’d had since junior high school. I cued up the song and listened to it for the first time in years...
Heading out this morning into the sun
Riding on the diamond waves, little darlin' one
Warm wind caress her
Her lover it seems
Oh, Annie
Dreamboat Annie my little ship of dreams
Going down the city sidewalk alone in the crowd
No one knows the lonely one whose head's in the clouds
Sad faces painted over with those magazine smiles
Heading out to somewhere won't be back for a while
Won't be back for a while
Won't be back for a while
The song was in my head as I drifted off.
The next morning seemed unusually long but finally lunchtime rolled around and I headed down to the food court. I headed for my usual table but didn’t see Annie. I waited, keeping company with my watch, until at last hunger and good sense conspired to make me smile and shake my head sadly. The song sure as hell was about her. Won’t be back for a while...
I ordered my own lunch, and ate it alone. Slowly. I was still alone when I crumpled the bag up and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin. “Well,” I said, to no one but myself, “I guess that’s that.” It was no big deal for me to do this; I talked to myself at home all the time.
It was a little after one-thirty when the phone at my desk rang. It was Tracy, our receptionist. “Jim, do you know a dog named Annie?”
“Yyesss,” I said, slowly. “Why?”
“Well, because she’s here and she says she has some money for you.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Tracy to simply tell Annie to keep the money and send her away, but I didn’t. I needed to know, at least, how the hell she’d found me. “Hang on, I’ll be right there.”
And there she was, sitting in reception, holding a styrofoam cup of water I supposed Tracy had given her. She jumped up when she saw me, the crumpled twenty-dollar bill in her paw. “Oh, it took me ages to find you!” She held the bill out to me.
“What happened? Why weren’t you there at lunch time?”
“I was! But that... that guard. He just grabbed me. He said terrible things, right in front of everyone... in front of other dogs... he wouldn’t listen...”
Behind her desk, Tracy was shaking her head in sympathy.
“Annie, how did you ever find me?”
“You smell like this place,” she said. “I managed to come back and sneak past the guard and get on the elevator.”
“You just checked every floor till you found....”
“The one with your work smell, yeah.”
Jesus. I worked on the 12th floor. “But I didn’t even... tell you... my name,” I said, feeling a sudden rush of shame.
Tracy piped up. “Didn’t make it easy. Her description could have been any of a dozen men up here. But then she said you smelled like flowers. Special flowers in Edenvale.” She laughed. “That’s how I knew it was you.”
She was right; that was my neighbourhood, and there was a church garden of rare beauty there that I passed to and from my way to the subway.
“She said your name was Jim,” Annie said. “Jim Butler.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m glad I found you.” She wagged her tail softly. She held out the twenty-dollar bill.
That was it. The battle was over.
“Annie, would you come with me?” I said.
She lowered her paw, still holding the bill. She nodded softly, head tilted uncertainly.
“Tracy, I’m not sure, but I might be a little while.”
“Sure,” said Tracy.
I nodded Annie out into the hall. I pressed the button for the elevator, and as we waited, she held the money out to me again. I ignored it.
“Where... where are we going?”
“I’m not sure yet. Maybe to straighten something out.”
The door opened. I extended my arm to usher her in, then stepped on with her.
I pressed the button for the concourse, and the doors closed.
“Annie,” I said, “would you like to come home with me?”
I heard her breath catch. “Oh, yes,” she said, softly.
“Fine,” I said. “Let’s give it a try. If you find you don’t care for it, you can make your way as best you know how again.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “What are you going to call me?”
“Annie. That’s your name.”
“But it doesn’t have to be...”
“Yes,” I said, catching her eye. “It does.”
I thought for a moment she was going to jump me or embrace me or something, but the doors opened, and I stepped out.
“Come on,” I said. “Incidentally, have you ever been on the subway?” I asked as I marched along the tile floor and she hurried to keep pace with me.
“Sure! Well, ...not officially,” she admitted, a new sort of Artful Dodger.
“Well, you’ll have to get used to it,” I said, “if you’re going to keep having lunch with me.”
She followed me to the security post at the edge of the food court. One of the guards was behind the desk; the chief, I supposed. He didn’t look up. I rapped my knuckles on the glass. He looked at me, faintly startled. “One of your guards,” I said. “Tall guy. Swarthy. Usually around at—Never mind, there he is.” I turned away, and strode up to the approaching guard.
The guard looked surprised to see Annie, and met my gaze with a puzzled look as I stepped up to him.
“Did you throw this dog out of here earlier?” I demanded.
“She’s a stray. She’s not supposed to be in here.”
I pointed. “This is my dog. Annie. Annie Butler,” I said, turning to her.
“How am I supposed to know that?”
“Because you’ve seen her with me.”
He leaned over me. He was easily four inches taller than me, and thirty pounds heavier. “Then get her a collar. Or next time, she’s going to animal control.” And that, he seemed to say, was that.
I heard a fearful whimper that enraged me. The answer came to me like lightning; the memory of a cat I’d had as a boy.
“Her last collar,” I growled, “gave her a rash. A severe rash she’s just gotten over. She came down here today to buy my lunch—” I turned to Annie, “—show him the bill, Annie...”
Annie gingerly raised the twenty-dollar bill.
I continued. “And after lunch, she was going to wait here for me to finish work, after which, we were going to pick up a new collar now that she finally can wear one again.”
The guard eased back from his position looming over me.
“When I came down here at lunch time, I couldn’t find my dog. I didn’t know what had happened to her. Luckily, she found me. She told me that you,” I said, jabbing a finger at him, “had thrown her out.”
“It was just a misunderstanding.”
I could have left it at that, but I didn’t. “The next time I come down here, from up there,” I said, making the point with my finger, “expecting to find my dog here, she had better be here.” I turned my head slightly, just to make sure the chief behind his ignorant glass was paying attention. “Or there’s going to be trouble down here.”
“It’s not a pet-sitting service,” the guard before us said.
“I’m not asking you to look after her. She can look after herself. I’m telling you to leave her alone.”
I didn’t wait for him to answer. I turned to the dog. My dog. I thought about what Capote had said in the passage she’d hesitantly read to me. And sometimes we shelter one another from the sky, I thought. Who knows why? I said, “Annie, you take that money and you get yourself something to eat. Then find yourself something interesting to read. Settle into a nice spot and I’ll be back in about three hours.”
She looked on the verge of tears. But she didn’t cry. She just wagged her tail softly and clutched the bill. “Okay...”
“You wait here for me, okay?” I said, shooting daggers at the guard from the corners of my eyes.
“Yes, Jim,” she said.
And she did.
