I often meet new people because of my dog. It did not used to be the case with my previous 4 dogs as they did look and behave like many of their other canine brethren. This one stands out with his size and the mellowness he has acquired with age. He pulls me like a reindeer to say hello to those who sit on the square benches, or to the homeless folks bundled up in the street during our walks before sunrise.
A few days ago, he got interested by the smell of a cigar a man was smoking in the cold of a December early morning. He smiled and said:
“I once had an Akita. May I pet him?”
Before I could respond, Ziggy was licking his hand and sniffing the cigar smoke around him.
So, we talked a little. I could immediately tell that he was very well educated, and well kept for someone who has been sleeping in the street and waiting for the soup kitchen to open. He was of Asian heritage, wearing rimless glasses and wearing a thick wool coat. Next to him was his wheeled suitcase.
“I am the only one who smokes a cigar,” he said looking to the few other men bundled up next to the soup kitchen door. “Everyone else rolls their cigarettes.”
By then he was hugging all 130 pounds of Ziggy as one would do to a blanket on a cold morning.
“I miss my dog. Well, I miss a lot of things.” he whispered while keeping his cigar away from my furry friend’s face.
Of course I sat down next to him, curious.
“You may wonder about my being here, no?” he asked.
“I am,” I said.
“Well, it is the old story, nothing particularly worth talking about. I was on the other side of midnight once. Then things went wrong. So, I am learning about a new life, one that I used to only read about. Perhaps even teach.”
We were silent for a while, as he kept scratching behind Ziggy’s ears.
Then he turned to me:
“But I am at peace that I did not forget who I was and refused to find comfort in what others expected me to be. I learned that to be the most important decision.”
The enigmatic one-way conversation had captivated me.
“This is the only cigar I have for the day, so excuse me that I make the most of it. Ziggy wants to go on his walk and you have no choice than to hold his leash. It was good he kept me company for a short while.”
He kissed Ziggy on the nose, and turned his head away.
I got up and let Ziggy decide which dark alley of the town he wanted to explore on that cold and dark morning.
PS/ The encounter reminded me of a similar one and of the brief conversation I had years ago in Baltimore, Maryland while walking my last dog Rocky. The man accepted that I take a photo, but I did not print it to respect his privacy. Instead, I scanned the medium format frame which made the capture of the moment appropriately more ethereal.
December 21, 2024
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024
