David Bowick - How To Disappear Completely

I ts amazing howfast you can run when theres a fucking rottweiler chasing you. Fewdomesticated animals can instill such fear in someone as arottweiler can. Why anyone would ever want to house such a monsteris a mystery to me. Theyre not lovable, theyre not cute andtheyre not beautiful. They slobber on everything, shit everywhere,and could easily eat the face off a child. Lovely. Sign me up forone. Make that two, actually.

But there I was, running like a mongoose chased by a lion on thedry plains of Namibia. I should probably also mention that thedevil dog had only had three good legs, one eye, and a terriblebladder problem. He was spraying everywhere as he ran. His fourthgimp leg wasnt functionalit didnt have a knee joint and was apeg leg dragged along by the three good ones. I always imaginedthat the other legs had to be resentful of the one bad one. It justcoasted along on the energy of the others, not contributinganything, like a child living at home with his parents aftercollege. Yet somehow, by the will of some loving god, he could run.Fast. All I could think about as I ran was how I could first killthe damn thing and make it look like an accident. Run throughtraffic and hope he gets hit? Feasible, but also likely that Id bestruck by a car, which has never been on my to-do list. Ive nevereven broken a toe. Call me adventurous.

So I did what any respectable, scared 20-something male woulddoI turned around, squared my position, looked around to see ifthere was anyone watching and I kicked the thing smack in the face.It was a spectacular performance. Any soccer player would haveagreed that I was blessed in that moment with perfect techniqueadivine gift delivered to the steel toe King David of my boot. Myfoot landed just under the jowls of the beast and raised him headfirst until he made a flip and landed right on his back. I wishthat someone had caught it on video. Id be an overnight star onYouTube. Who wouldnt want to watch an averagely attractive guykick a three legged, one eyed dog in the face as it urinates allover itself? The correct answer is no one.

For a moment I started to feel sorry for him. He whimpered in ahigh-pitched whine and panted so heavily that I thought I pushedhis ribs halfway into his throat. But then I saw itstill in hismouth, the reason for this whole ridiculousness, now covered inblood. In a moment of self-confidence after my victory, I rolled upmy sleeves, took a deep breath and reached a hand in there. Wrappedaround one of those nasty teeth was a ring. Not just any ringthering.

Eight days, thirteen hours and ten minutes ago I asked my girlto marry me. The ring that I had carefully picked out for her wasnow wrapped like a lace bow around a beasts tooth. Anyone wouldwonder why there was such expensive wrapping on a dirty, slobberypresent.

I rotated the ring back and forth trying to jog it loose, hopingthat the bastard wouldnt suddenly get a boost of energy and bitemy hand off.

I put the slime-and blood-covered six-thousand-dollar ring intomy pocket and wondered what to do next. People had started togather around and I had to have a story to get out of this in theclear. Time to turn on the old charm, I thought. Come on highschool drama class, dont fail me now. Help! Please, I shouted,this dog was hit by a car. Please, anyone.

Oh, dear, a rotund older lady said, can you carry him? Myhusbands clinic is right down this way a few blocks.

It was time to kick it up a notch.

Thank you so much maam. Hes been following me for the lastfew minutes. I think he likes me, but the poor thing just couldntkeep up. Man, I am such a great liar! Then he crossed the streetwith me at just the wrong time, and bam. His three good legscouldnt get him across the street fast enough.

When I smiled just then, Im pretty sure one of my pearly whiteshad a sheen glow briefly, like in those old Pepsi commercials.Enjoy a Pepsi. Ding!

Oh, the poor thing. Come on.

I picked up Satan though it took all my remaining energy. I wassurprised by my own strength. Its amazing what your body can doafter you have triumphed over the Devil himself. His body was limpin my arms and it was difficult to get a good grip on him. After acouple of awkward poses together, we finally settled into a pacethat worked for both of us and we stopped stepping on each otherstoes.

The woman and I commiserated on our short walk to her husbandsoffice. I learned that her name was Darla (are you kidding me?) andher husband was Herbert. Herbert and Darla Tanis. What year is thisand where am I again? Theyd been married for 20 years and havemany pets. No rottweilers, though, of course. If you pictured a45-year-old nice fat woman, she fits that image to a t. Big eyes,short, stubby arms just long enough to wrap a huge hug around alarge child or small man. Dark brown hair and a dated halfdress/half muumuu graced her with surprising dignity, much likeIve pictured Mother Goose to look. The only other stereotype thatIve seen fit someone so perfectly was my Italian roommate incollege. Every time he was offered food, he yelled, Lappetitovien mangiando, as any good Italian does apparently.

We rounded the corner and the Tanis Animal Clinic was a fewdoors down from there. It was a handsome establishment in themiddle of a somewhat dumpy street. I wondered how I had nevernoticed the clinic before. When we walked in the doors I wastransported back to the 50s. I might as well have walked into asoda bar, with girls in beehive, and boys with pompadours. A youngcouple sipping from a milkshake from a glass with two straws,gazing at each other, wondering when and how they might get tolovers lane for some hanky panky without their parents findingout.

A thick, stately man paraded out from the back who I could onlyassume was the big man himself. He was balding and prettyshortjust big enough for Darla to wrap her arms around, I thoughtchuckling silently and shaking my head. Herbert was one of the fewmen that looked right bald. Some bald men you see and think,eeeehhhhh, thats unfortunate, and try your best not to stare. WithHerbert, though, it worked. I bet that if he made the exclusiveguest list to heaven, hed still be bald (because, well, itsHerbert Tanisbald man extraordinaire) and God would parade himaround as a trophy of the aging male.

Goodness! he exclaimed, as a man of his time would be expectedto say in that situation.

Oh Herby. Ha. Herby. I was bringing you your lunchand I came across these two. Is there anything you can do?

He looks pretty bad, but lets see what we can do. Bring him inhere.

We followed the trophy through a short hallway lined with photosof happy clients and their mended pets. I took note of how manyrottweilers I saw. Precisely zero. The room looked like a typicaldoctors office except that it was actually pretty comfortable. Itdidnt feel like death or sickness, but rather like a blanket offur that you might snuggle into for a while before realizing thatit is, in fact, the carcass of a dead animal and you want it offyou immediately.

I laid Hades onto the metal table and he was still bleeding,panting and whimpering. For the first time, I started to feel sorryfor the dog as he looked at me in pain. I put my hand into mypocket to finger the ring, making sure it was still there. Herberttook a few diagnostics and asked me questions about what happened,whos dog it was and other background information that I utterlylied about with an air of honesty. I felt like a politician tellinghis people what they want to hear. Lying is ok when its good forthe system, right?