My stomach sank like it did every time I saw that place and automatically searched for the corner room on the third floor. The room where Mom died a year ago.
More memories flooded back and, like the last time I stood in the cage, they immobilized me. Mom’s sunken face. The sympathetic nurses. The horns of the train blaring while I held Mom’s hand and watched her take her last breath.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. I’d hear those horns again, but this time it would be me dying, me withering away in a hospital bed with over-starched sheets and an overworked, under-appreciated nurse trying their best to stay positive. But I wouldn’t have a family member by my side.
Maybe Becca would come, but my friend had been distant lately. Without her, I had no friends. At least no human friends. I couldn’t bring my dog to the hospital. If Becca didn’t visit, there’d be no one to hold my hand except maybe the nurse. I might very well have to do this alone and that scared me the most.
“God, that’s an ugly dog.” A man in his twenties strolled down the sidewalk holding the hand of a beautiful woman. He sneered down at a dog resting in the shade with its leash tied to a tree.
Right where I’d left him.
Under other circumstances, I might’ve considered the tall, fit man attractive. But he’d just insulted my dog and now I wanted to punch him in the throat.
Chupey was part Xoloitzcuintle, part mutt and part three-year-old toddler with attachment issues. Lean and well-muscled, he had a wedge-shaped face, constantly wrinkled brow, yellow eyes, and large pointed ears that swiveled around like satellite dishes.
My dog didn’t exactly have the kind of doggy good looks that made random strangers fawn over him. Instead, Chupey liked to eat raw hotdogs and fart and had no concept of personal space. But he was mine, and I loved him. He shared my general distrust for strangers, biting first and asking questions later. He’d been at my side for the last ten years, and after Mom died, he’d been my only true companion besides Becca.
My stomach twisted. Who would take care of him after I was gone?
The woman holding the jerk’s hand giggled, hiding her bright white teeth with her hand. “I think he’s cute. Ugly-cute, you know? I think he’s one of those Mexican hairless dogs.”
Though Chupey was mostly hairless, he had a tuft of fur on the top of his head that looked like a mohawk. Really, how much more badass could he get? He looked like the lovechild of a hyena and a Chupacabra, the infamous demonic creature of myths and legends.
The man turned to his girlfriend, eyes wide. “That dog has a face only a mother could love.”
I’d heard enough. That was my ugly dog baby they were talking about.
“Hey!” I called out, startling them both. Normally, I would’ve ignored all the things and let their mean remarks go. But, unfortunately for them, today wasn’t a normal day. “His mom’s right here and unlike him, I woke up this morning and chose violence.”
They glanced at each other and quickly walked by me, not making eye contact.
That’s right, keep moving.After the news I just got, I was done being nice and considerate of other peoples’ feelings.
Chupey watched the whole thing, wagging his long, whip-like tail.
“I suppose you think all this is hilarious?” I untied the leash and held the loop in my hand.
He looked up at me and barked as if to say yes.
“Of course, you do.” He probably thought it was also hilarious that I lost all my money betting on myself and needed to find a way to make some of it back, and fast. Maybe I should stay home. Just this once. Eat a gallon of ice cream in my fuzzy PJs withThe Price is Righton loop.
I turned toward my apartment on 70th street and headed down the sidewalk. The heat coming off the pavement caressed my calves as if Hell itself planned to open up the road and swallow me whole.
Not yet. I had some living left to do.