Donuts in the Snow

At Reservoir Park, I pulled the truck to the right so I had an ice-free place to get out. There they were, tire tracks going out into the snow. The small parking lot was just big enough for four or five cars. “Bastards are at it again,” I muttered. In the night, they had raced around in the snow, tearing up the park.”Little shits.”

The park was absolutely empty. Whenever the Hispanic guys play soccer, the parking area was full, and cars parked along the street. Suzy, our border collie, wouldn’t get out when they were playing soccer, and since she was never sure if they were playing soccer, even in the winter or dark of night, she always hesitated, head down, listening, frozen. One person kicking a ball was enough, and she no longer needed to pee. Suzy imaging a ball was enough. She didn’t chase balls and didn’t want one in the truck. Never saw a Frisbee worth sniffing. We were careful with treats. Her guts had a hair trigger. The breeder, Bonnie, gave us Suzy and said she would need some work, a great show dog, and a good mom, but beyond that, she was a mess.

Suzy wouldn’t come to us at that first meeting without Bonnie taking her by the collar and almost dragging her. Once she did, it was clear that Suzy loved people, people she knew. If it was safe, if there were no sudden noises or unexpected moves. Anything out of place, she was in Bonnie’s lap, shivering.

We carried her to our car that first day, her eyes wild and wide. You would have thought we were taking her to be drowned instead of to her new home. It had been three years, and we had a lot of stories. Funny thing, she was a real trooper. We lived downtown and at first, there was just too much traffic for her to be able to concentrate. She would only pee in our yard, in the back, behind the fence. Our first trip to Canada, she was terrified, had to go back to the room and suck her paw. Last summer, she rode on a subway in Montreal, muzzle and all. She thought I was out of my head but she did it, four times.

I opened the back door of the truck. Suzy hesitated and listened, then once I touched her collar, suggesting a leash was coming, she jumped out, ducked under the door, looked over her shoulder, and headed for the bushes. After a pee, she turned back to the truck, but I was already at the picnic tables. She glanced over her shoulder three times toward the center of the snow-covered soccer field, then dashed to my side.

We began walking around the edge of the park, a thirty-foot wide shelf just 6-8 feet lower than the top, which was an absolutely flat expanse, now white, except for the two soccer goals and a brick tower at one end that once was the overflow for the reservoir. The perimeter wall holding the water was gone. Once a reservoir, now a park.

Suzy sniffed the trees, found a bit of yellow snow for examination, and then ran up to the brow and looked across the soccer field. She studied the two large round balls of snow that may have been the start of a snowman. Suzy did not like those things. For her, they qualified as danger. Nope, not getting close enough for one of those things to grab me.

As we walked, houses and backyards were below us, over the hill. A few dogs barked, Suzy noticed, then went back up to the brow to check on the balls of snow. Other than houses and backyards, the park was bordered by a large old cemetery with stones, mausoleums, and sculptures. Suzy didn’t like people moving around in the shadows of the cemetery. Carrying flowers made it worse, but there was no one today, so she went back to check on the balls of snow.

Reservoir Park was round, and I parked at 12 o’clock. By the time we passed 6 o’clock, Suzy was picking up speed, brow of the hill, checked, then down and ran, looked back at me, ran some more, then checked on those balls of snow. At 9 o’clock, she cut over to the street and ran for the truck. I decided to cut across the park.

I could see where the bastards had chewed two big donuts in the snow, brown sod, and mud circles in a pristine white soccer field. Clearly, truck tires, heavy treads. After the snow melts, they would be there, scars. I immediately thought about how to make tiger teeth, short sections of pipe with nails sticking out. I could hide them in the snow. Give them something to think about. There was no reason I couldn’t buy one of those game cameras that hunters put out in the woods to track animals and get a license plate number, see if the cops would do anything. I was so tired of punks in their big trucks acting like idiots.

At the truck, Suzy was twitching at the door. She jumped before I actually had it fully open. She tried again, and once she landed, she was quick to the other side, behind the passenger seat, and curled up in a knot, pleading for me to shut the door.

Once I started the engine, Suzy was up with her paws on the console. My wife hated driving with the dog’s head beside hers. It made her nervous. Suzy licked my cheek. I began to back out of the parking lot, and Suzy whined. Suzy didn’t whine or bark, well, almost never, only front-door strangers. She whined only once or twice a month if she was excited. We encouraged her to speak up, letting us know what she wanted. Suzy licked my cheek again and whined. “I know, girl, it’s a scary world out there.”