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tainted by the street, that I was in no sense the person I had
been, I began to sniff the tires of other cars almost with curiosity,
not resisting even when she ordered me to smell some disgusting
mess placed there by some canine. I worried, of course, about
contamination by dogshit, but then recalled that in some sense
I was a dog, and if I wasn t a dog I was another kind of animal
an animal whose bite was more dangerous than a dog s and
whose shit perhaps was too. So maybe it was I who was the
menace to civilization, and not the other way around.
I had been blocking out my need to go to the bathroom, but
fire soon poured through my insides, and I found it necessary
to tug three times on my leash. She adjusted my costume, and
suddenly I felt the moist and cool night air upon my rear, and a
newspaper placed under me, I did my business. Feces began to
212 / JANE DELYNN
exit my body in hot, noisy spurts, with a strong but not totally
repugnant meat-like smell. A vision of myself in Morocco, fever-
ish and ill, squatting all night over a hole in the floor, filled my
mind. There had been newspapers there also, instead of toilet
paper, and I had been alone, ill and far from home. Surely that
was worse. I tried to prevent my befoulments from soiling my
costume, but cramps would wash over me and I would forget
everything save emptying myself. Feeling feverish, I lay with my
head against her knee, for by now she was squatting next to
me, scratching behind my ears and telling me what a good dog
I was and how proud, how very proud, she was of me.
I could hear people passing by. It hardly seemed possible
they could notice nothing unusual, but I heard no comments
pertaining to me or my situation.
After this, heading to the park seemed less punishment than
treat. Indeed, the soft dirt of the dog run was comforting. Strange
canines ran up to sniff and mount me, but my owner managed
to pull me away before any such encounters could be consum-
mated. It was a pleasure to roll on the grass, now that the gutter
had burned the fear of dirt and feces out of me. Even when
other dog owners or the homeless or alkies made disparaging
references to my appearance, I felt protected, for my master
made it clear she was proud of my demeanor and deportment.
Would every canine could say as much!
Upstairs, after a climb that was easier than the one down,
she held my hand as I squatted in the tub and expelled the
remaining foods and liquids from my system. Then she bathed
me in warm soapy water, all the while telling me what a good dog
I was, how well I had undertaken my training, how pleased she
was that we had reached this new level. Several times the tub
213 / LEASH
was emptied and refilled till any remaining smell of shit and
garbage was gone. Then she tenderly patted me dry and rubbed
lotion over me and put salve on my scrapes and wounds. Too
exhausted from the various insults to mind and body to attempt
to move, I lay there, almost in an out-of-body state, as with a
toothbrush and toothpaste she brushed my teeth for me, and
had me rinse my mouth out with mouthwash. Then she brought
a blanket that she wrapped around me. I slept that night in the
tub next to Charlie, our bodies curled around each other for
comfort and warmth.
82
From then on I abandoned all pretense at normal existence. I
ceased paying bills, and returned phone calls only when I knew
I d reach an answering machine. Soon I didn t even bother
doing that. People still left the occasional message, but these
concerned events that seemed increasingly remote, and I deleted
them without listening. After telling the Current I was going
through some stuff and would speak to her when I felt better,
and Leslie that I was going out of town with a married woman
I was having an affair with, I disconnected the machine and
answered only the phone with the unlisted number.
I did little save lie on the bed and wait for her calls. Reading
became impossible, groups of incomprehensible words about
trivial events and people it was inconceivable anyone could be
interested in. Even tv narrative bored me. I flipped through the
channels like a deck of cards, not for the content but the visuals.
Sometimes I d turn on the stereo, and find it was already on, or
214 / JANE DELYNN
I d play two or three radio stations on my different machines at
the same time. My behavior didn t alarm me; I decided it was my
duty to immerse myself in this experience as deeply as possible
so that when it was over I could use it in my writing. To this end,
and also because I had become used to it, I began eating my
food and drinking my water out of bowls I placed on the floor
and shared with Esmeralda. It was, oddly, a very peaceful life.
83
Although on occasion my master had casually mentioned a dog
show, I had assumed it was an indefinite and probably fictitious
event rather than something specific I might actually be taken to.
I was therefore both surprised and alarmed when, one afternoon,
after donning my costume, she informed me that we would be
going to a place where I should find myself in the presence of
other dogs and their owners.
Be sure to be on your best behavior, or no one will want
you, she warned.
Want me? What could she mean?
I was ordered into my cage. She said that although she
personally trusted me to be on good behavior, the rules of the
Society compelled her to place a muzzle on me. Her footsteps
moved away, and I was alone. Nervous about this Society,
and uncertain what she meant by the idea of nobody wanting
me, the powerlessness of my position overwhelmed me. But
she paid no attention to my sobbing, and eventually I fell asleep.
I woke to the sound of people talking.
...twice tried to bite me, my owner was saying.
215 / LEASH
Kara s dog managed to escape, but we caught her on Tenth
Street, someone said.
...hard for them to get far....
Are we ready?
I think so.
Heave-ho.
My cage was lifted and carried. They didn t do it very care-
fully, and my body rolled from side to side. There were abrupt
starts and stops, each of which occasioned further bruises; then
I was evidently being transported down the stairs, for gravity
pushed me helplessly towards the bottom of the cage, my body
at such an angle that I had to push with all my might to prevent
my neck from being crushed.
Finally we reached the street: car exhaust and garbage smells
and the occasional whiff of dog excrement and piss.
A door slammed, then another, as the cage was put down.
Then I heard, as if from a great distance, a motor starting.
God, it s like a kennel in here.
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