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MY BOOSTER
I lived a life which vacillated between pain and fear, and was often consumed by both. Sometimes I felt the ability to assimilate, but was unable to do so due to the writhing pain in my leg. Other times the pain subsided, but my fear and the depression that accompanied it prevented me from leaving the confines of my RV. Returning to live in my home was out of the question! I had lived alone in the country and could not adequately take care of myself. The person who had assaulted me, stolen my truck, and broken into my condo and littered it with crack pipes was still out there. “Psychopaths always come back,” I was told over and over. He kept trying to call me, find me, as if he derived satisfaction from the hunt. I often dropped the phone, trembling, breaking out in a sweat, sick to my stomach. I now knew how a woman felt when she was being stalked, but I was a “man”. I should be able to handle this kind of thing. I had learned to cope with the pain, but this was more than I could handle. I would awaken at night reliving the traumas, once again shaking, sweating, nauseated. I needed help.
I have always been afraid of alcohol and pills as both of my parents were alcoholics/addicts. Would I inherit the gene that would lead to my self destruction? What alternative did I have? I could not live like this any more. Let me say that I just explored my “options”, as I was tired of running and isolating. I had to find a definitive way out. I had buried my two terminally ill parents years ago, and since I had no children the incentives were few.
The only thing I was responsible for was the damn dog I had rescued from my stolen truck once it was recovered. The truck was towed to a storage yard by the wrecker driver who worked from 6:00 P.M. to 6:00 AM. He had awakened for some unknown reason half way through his daytime sleep and called his boss. “There’s a dog in that truck I pulled in last night” he told his boss. It was noon and already 90 degrees outside on a hot August day in Louisiana. The 8 week old puppy was still alive! The boss had a nephew who worked at the jail and he asked him to interrogate the inmate who had been arrested for running a red light and had outstanding warrants. The truck thief hadn’t worried about the puppy. If he gave anyone my number they would find out the truck was stolen. It wasn’t to be entered into the national computer as a stolen vehicle until the next day.
My brother asked me what I was going to do with the puppy. According to him I was in no shape to care for a dog. He was right, but I was too “out of it” to realize it at the time. I decided to buy an RV and get away. I left my home, my business, and my friends behind. I had been sleeping on friend’s couches for far too long. I didn’t want to continue to be such a burden to others. Nothing seemed to matter except for escaping my pain and fear Once I was out of town, I didn’t want to leave the safety of my RV in the parks. I felt safe being surrounded by lots of people. What would it be like to be able to sleep just one night without awakening in pain and fear? I was always tired, often confused, and lonely. The last thing I wanted to do was leave the safety of my RV and limp around in pain twice a day walking a damn dog. Once again, my options were limited. I HAD to walk the damn dog.
Every time I summoned the courage to venture forth into the “real world” to walk the damn dog I was always slowed down by the fact that the damn dog had to have a stuffed animal in his mouth whenever I walked him. I did my best to walk the other way when I saw people lurking about. They were nice people, usually retirees or families with kids but I didn’t want anything to do with them. The problem arose when the kids would see the damn dog walking with the teddy bear in his mouth. Their faces lit up with such radiant smiles like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rain storm. The initial fear of seeing a strange dog was replaced with jubilance. The parents would follow their children to make sure the dog was safe, often arriving to find the damn dog lying on his back, teddy bear in his mouth, belly being rubbed by the finest of masseuse.
“What a cute puppy, does he always carry that bear everywhere he goes?” was the inevitable first question posed. I always wanted to say, “Yeah I wish the damn dog didn’t cuz I wouldn’t be talking to YOU!” I would somehow muster the strength to be polite no matter how much pain I was in. It’s not their fault I was in the shape I was in. Why should I dampen their spirit just because I was drowning in a sea of despair? That first question always lead to myriad others. My short walks always turned into a pilgrimage. Damn the damn dog! Before long the kids were knocking at my RV door asking if they could play with the damn dog. Of course, they didn’t ask for the “damn dog”, they asked for Booster. He once stole a stuffed animal from a pet store and ran out the door. I had to go back and pay for it. The damn dog was a thief, as he had “boosted” the object of his affection.
At night I would lay in bed and think sad thoughts. Sometimes I would get on my computer and sink further into my world of silence. According to Simon and Garfunkel, “silence like a cancer grows…”. For me cancer might have been an ideal way out. Sleep was the only way out at the time and it was elusive to say the least. An hour here, an hour there never more. I often awoke trembling, smelling the damn dog’s puppy breathe blowing across my wet brow. A tongue was lapping the moisture from my face as a tail was beating a melodic melody upon the mattress. That damn dog again! Doesn’t he know I want to be left alone! Stupid damn dog. “Down” I screamed! He quickly “assumed the position” albeit with a hurt expression upon his face. If I didn’t know better, I would swear he had feelings. I kept reminding myself that he was only a damn dog.
One day a lady in a neighboring RV asked if my dog could play with hers. I was glad to let someone else walk the damn dog for a change. I was able to isolate more effectively if I didn’t have to parade the damn dog around. Before long both dogs were running around the RV park full throttle in Nascar-like style. The gravel was flying as the dogs made their laps in record breaking speed. I returned to the inside of my RV, my cocoon, and laid down. The dogs were barking, expressing their exuberance. I wondered if I would ever again feel that joie de vivre that had successfully eluded me for so long now. The canine cacophony made me sad. It reminded me of the way my life once was. After all, I had lived in a log home on a pond and drove a convertible to let the sun into my life. What had I done to deserve all of this pain and anguish that had stampeded into my life?
My introspection was suddenly jarred by a loud thud, followed by a piercing scream of pain. I realized the damn dog was in horrible pain. I was expecting to see his head cracked open, blood everywhere. I had grown to expect the worst. That is how life was for me. I soon found the damn dog holding his bruised paw up in the air. He had run into a truck’s trailer hitch. How he hit his paw and not his head I couldn’t guess. He was looking directly into my eyes pleading for help. He was hurting, seeking relief from his pain. I sat down and cradled the damn dog in my arms, tears flowing from my eyes like a creek down a hillside. I told him I knew how he felt and he would be ok. I was sure the lady thought I was a freak. Hell, “I” thought I was a freak! She looked down at me (not on me) and said, “I love my dog too”. Damn dog!
I stood up and cradled Booster in my arms. I went inside my RV and gingerly placed him on my bed; the very same place I had shoed him away from many times before. I balled up in a fetal position and held him in my arms. I awakened the next morning to the familiar tongue lashing I was becoming so accustomed to. Booster’s tail was beating the mattress in reassurance that he was back to normal. I silently wondered if I too would ever return to normal. I didn’t even know what normal was any more. One thing I DID know was that Booster and I had shared each other’s pain in mutual appreciation. In a strange way that seemed to make things better, a little more palatable. He was able to get over his pain, I wondered if I would ever be able to do the same.
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