Meeting Memphis

The day that I met Memphis I was at the lowest point in my journey, and frankly I was at home there.  For two decades addiction had dragged me to lower, and lower lows, and hope was no longer within my nature.  The resilience that every young addict has, fades with age, until it becomes acceptance of a fate worse than death.

I hardly felt anything in those days, except a desire to use drugs.  So I was as stunned as anyone when my first sight of Memphis elicited such a visceral response. Normally to be addicted is to be self centered. To notice another's needs was out of character, to place the needs of an animal above my own, was nothing short of a miracle. The first of many, perhaps.

Memphis was a bluenose pitbull with a very expressive face. I first saw her in the hallway of a Single Room Occupancy hotel in Vancouver's downtown eastside.  As I entered through the front door, she trotted down the hall and sat directly in front of me. She looked up at me with pleading eyes, and I immediately understood that she was desperate to go outside to avoid an accident. Understanding what she wanted caught me off guard, and before I knew it I responded.

She was wearing a collar, with a makeshift leash dragging behind her, so I grabbed the rope and took her outside. It was clear to me she was having a real emergency, but she didn't go the minute we stepped outside and she didn't try and drag me toward the nearest grass.  She just looked toward the grassy area down the street and once more gave me that look, so we hustled there together. She was clearly unwell, she had awful diarrhea. I felt so much sadness for this dog that was not being cared for correctly.

The hotel was called the Fitz, and like many of the single room occupancy hotels in East Van, it was full of addicts and hoarders. The hallways were littered with toxic waste she could have eaten. She was clearly not treated well yet she was so polite, waiting for a stranger to help her outside.  I felt that any other dog in her position would have just shit on the floor.

After several minutes of her relieving herself, she finished up and we made our way back to her building.  When I reached the door, she hesitated and gave me a new look. This time the look said, " Please sir, Don't make me go back there."  My heart broke a little at that look, and I stopped. It wasn't right to return this dog to her owner. These hotels were no place for an animal, especially not a well mannered sensitive dog like Memphis. I had only known her a few minutes, but I was prepared to rescue her then and there.  

I turned to take her away, and she immediately smiled with appreciation and pepped right up. But, the building manager who clearly knew the dog's owner stepped out the front door.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

I panicked. I've never been one for direct confrontation. "She had to shit, I just brought her outside for a minute."

"I saw that much, Joshua." I suspect he used my name, to discourage any thought of running. "Now you better get her back inside before Warren thinks you're stealing his dog."

Gaining a little perspective, I started back towards the door. If I took Memphis away now, I'd be charged with a crime.

In the end I decided I better get her back where she belonged before her owner got upset about her absence.

So we went into the building, and I let go of her leash so she could make her way home, but instead she sat next to me and waited while I checked in at the desk.

While I was still occupied with the desk guy, I heard someone screaming down the hall.

"Where did that damn dog get to now!"

If that damn dog has wandered off again I will teach her a lesson."

I was worried by this new development, but the dog I was growing fond of didn't respond to the maniac down the hall. Just as I was starting to think some other dog was missing, a door slammed open down the hall and a man crawled out over a pile of junk.  I'd seen this kind of hoarder before in these buildings. His place was so full of junk that he couldn't even walk through his door. The man got to his feet in the hallway, looked towards us, then away, then quickly back at the dog.

"Memphis!" Said the man, patting his thigh. "Come here girl, come back to daddy." Memphis gave me one last look pregnant with meaning and went trotting down the hall towards her owner.

  I was beginning to regret my decision to return to this building with Memphis, one look at this guy and I knew it was as bad as I feared. But there wasn't much I could do now.

Several weeks passed before I saw Memphis again but she was never far from my thoughts.  I found myself telling her story to anyone who would listen. The dog with impeccable manners and expressive eyes, had made her way permanently into my heart.  I found myself reliving that day, imagining myself just walking away with her so she could have a better life. At the time it never occurred to me that she would be rescuing me in the near future.

On November 11th 2018, I had truly exhausted all my options and the remainder of my will to go on. I had been up for days with no time to rest, and no place to crash. Addiction at its worst is a harsh mistress. In order to support my habit, I had to grind for money constantly.  I was trudging the streets and lanes, collecting cans, and searching dumpsters all to keep myself medicated.

At some point I realized that all this trudging about without rest or food was destroying my health.  The water dripping down my neck had long since soaked my under layers. My legs were swollen two twice their normal size, and I was losing the battle on every front.

But, in an unexpected moment of good fortune I found a fifty dollar bill, more than enough to allow me to keep trudging for a while longer. I wasn't far from Memphis's building when I found it, so that is where I went to get high that day.

 I picked up an ordinary amount of drugs, from one of Memphis's neighbours and went into one of the disgusting bathrooms to get high.  It was nearly the last thing I did. During the opiate crisis in Vancouver, Fentynal was killing several people everyday and that remembrance day I almost became another statistic.  

I came to, to a pair of paramedics administering oxygen, and Narcan. My first thought was: "How did these fuckers find me they're going to ruin my high."

But, almost as soon as I came too, Memphis pushed through to my side and began liking my face. 

One paramedic informed me. "Your lucky your dog found you buddy, if it hadn't been for her, you would have died today."

"Yeah she was barking outside the door so the building manager kicked it down, they called us and started administering Narcan immediately. Your dog here refuses to give us space to work, she won't leave your side." Said the other paramedic.

"She's not my dog." I told them.

I could see the building manager, over the paramedics shoulder, and he entered the conversation.

"Actually, she is now. Warren passed away, 5 days ago and it's fallen to me to find her a good home.  I've been trying to reach you since. I remember how much you cared for her that day when she wasn't well, and I know you're the right man for the job.  She just confirmed my feeling today by saving your life."

"But, look at me, I'm in worse shape than Warren was. I'm not fit to take care of myself let alone a dog."

"Well I will give you a month to get your shit together, then I am taking her to a shelter, and who knows what kind of life she'll have. You two deserve each other, and you need her as much as she needs you, so get yourself on methadone and find a place and put this shit behind you, man."

At this point tears were streaming down my face, I knew he was right, that this was a total God shot. I was suddenly getting the exact push I needed to pull my head out of my ass. It was so surreal and inspiring an opportunity, that I knew my only choice was to accept it and live up to it. I just nodded my agreement, too overwhelmed to find my voice.

A month later I was stable on the methadone program, and I was bringing Memphis home to the small bachelor pad I had just taken possession of.  She looked a little healthier than when I first met her, and much happier. She still continuously surprised me with her polite manner and expressive eyes.

Memphis is my single biggest supporter in early recovery. She often finds ways to cheer me up when everything seems bleak. I honestly spent the majority of the time when I first had her, longing for the escape drugs used to provide. But, I never gave into those urges, because I knew she was counting on me. I could never subject her to that lifestyle again.