32 Dog

Across from my patio seat at the Lennox a Chinese guy about my age was manning a stand of cut rate jewelry. He was looking at my dog and you could tell he wanted to come over and visit with her but he was just looking at her, hoping someone would buy something from his stand.

Eventually, to my surprise, he came over.

"That very nice dog you got there," he said as he ran his fingers through my dog's wooly coat. "Very friendly."

"Me and my wife worked on a lady's farm in Texas," he continued. "She had 32 dog. Anybody around her farm that have trouble with dog they leave dog with her. Big dog, sick dog, bad dog, all fuck up dog they leave there.

"Me and my wife we don't pay rent. Do things for lady, stay free. Every week we go to store buy ten pound dog food. Ten pound!"

I could tell he was recounting a happy period in his life. I let him talk.

"All around us black people." He said the words "black people" like he had been living in a particularly warm part of Hell, which Texas is sometimes compared to. "Never problem at her farm from them. 32 bad dog keep everybody out. And she have lot of gun. Big gun. She shoot anybody that try cause problem."

He talked some more and went back to his stand and sat down. He looked happy now, remembering the old days in Texas. My dogs have had that effect on people for a long time now. Works for me too.