Walking Jazz

On my way home, I made a call to my vet, Dr. Gebroe. I asked him if a dog could give a cat any disease. He said only a few. One was rabies. One was mange. And I can’t remember the other. I described what Jazz looked like. To my horror, Dr. Gebroe said, “That sounds like mange.”

“Shit.”

I got home and immediately put all my clothes in the wash and jumped in the shower. Then I settled down with the cats for some TV watching.

It was a month before I went back to see Jazz. In that month only one person walked him. Twice. Two times outside of his cage. When I heard that my throat closed up and I felt horrible. Not only is he sick, and in a strange state and been through who knows what, but he’s alone and no one wants to get close to him because he’s ugly and mangy and sick.

This time I knew where to go. No one stopped me or asked who I was. I just went straight up to the third floor. The sign on the door said, “Keep Door Closed”. I slowly opened it. The two dogs were no longer next to him. He was all-alone in that room. What I saw broke my heart. No. More than that…it shattered it. Every fiber in my body ached with a sadness I didn’t think was possible. There he was…Jazz. The same tiny ball in the corner of a cage. This time he barely looked up. He met my stare, only to put his head back down, as if to say, “She can’t possibly be here for me. No one ever comes in here. She must be lost.” He closed his eyes again. My eyes welled up with tears. In fact, as I write this, the tears are streaming down my face again. I can still picture that sweet face. The hopeless boy that everyone forgot curled up in a tight ball. All. Alone.

Through my tears I called his name. “Jazz, it’s me. I walked you before. Come on, we’re going outside.”

He got up, not really believing it. But once I opened the gate, the happiness invaded his body and he was all kisses and love. I struggled to put his leash on. I hugged him. He was no longer contagious and I was going to make up for lost time. I smothered him in kisses. And tears.

The walk to the elevator was really fast this time. He was rushing to get outside…I was rushing so no one would see me crying.

I cried for the first 15 minutes of our walk. I cried and I talked to Jazz. I told him I wasn’t going to let him sit in that kennel all day long with no visits. I promised him I would be there every day. No matter what. No. Matter. What. I told him I was going to find him the best home ever. I told him he would never hurt again. I cried and promised. Snot running out of my nose and into my mouth. (Gross!) I didn’t care. I cried as I picked up his stinky poop. (Really Gross!) Several people crossed to the other side of the street. I don’t know which was scarier to them…A Pit Bull or the hysterical woman talking to herself as she walked him.
I walked that boy for an hour and twenty minutes. We loved every minute.

When it was over, he went to his corner and curled up. It was just so…sad. I couldn’t stand it. I got in the cage with him. The door closed behind me. His loneliness washed over me. His sadness. But also his strength. No hurricane was going to break his spirit. No cage. No isolation. Nothing. I got down right next to him and looked into his eyes.

“Jazz”, I whispered. “ I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wagged his tail. And went to sleep.

…to be continued





Saturday, January 14th, 2006 - 08:01AM
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