The Manuel and The Mutt

Knowledge and Neatness. Those where the things that Andrew always prided himself in. So, when the doctors diagnosed him with OCD, was he surprised? No, he recognized the signs. The checking the locks every half hour, the overwhelming feeling to keep everything in its spotless perfect state, and finally the long hours of constant organizing and reorganizing of his precious books.

The books where what Andrew loved most. They where the most important part of him. He figured he could learn everything he needed to know from comfort of his pleasant pristine home. He had towering stacks of books looming in all directions; and all the shelves packed to nearly breaking with books of all sizes. His normal average day consisted of cleaning and reading, and he liked it that way. He would have never thought anything would ever interrupt his meticulous order and the system of which he lived his life.

Andrew- Day 1

My fingers ran lightly over my glossy chestnut coffee table checking for dust. I rubbed my fingertips together concluding that the table was dust free. I cataloged in my brain that the table was dust free under D for dust, F for free and T for table. My brain is in a sense a lot like a filing cabinet, to keep track of everything I file it all away, it helps me to remember.

Scratch-scritch. A sound drew me away from my thoughts. I went rigid and I stood perfectly still for a second my body tense. A thought burst into my head. Did I lock the doors? There was no noise for a few tense minutes, my body slackened slowly. It came again Scratch-scritch. The scraping sound seemed to be coming from my front door. I crept forward quietly making sure the door was locked and then peered out of the peephole. There was no one there and everything appeared normal. At first, I was confused. Snuffle-sniff. I leapt back, much to my embarrassment, when a sound came from under the door. Snuffle-sniff. Scratch-scritch.

My thoughts raced. What if it was a rabid animal? What if it’s a teenager? What if it’s a door-to-door salesman? I shuddered slightly, thinking that either way it would be bad. I decided to open the door a miniscule amount and ventured to take a peek out of the crevasse. Sitting on the doorstep was a large dirty white and brown collarless mutt. It’s just a dog? That’s it? I felt a little sheepish as I opened the door slightly more.

The dog seizing its opportunity launched itself forward and nudged its way into the house. I leapt back in surprise backing against the wall. The dog padded forward as if he owned the place and plopped himself down on the rug. I felt a mild surge of panic. I filed this in my brain under B for bad, and D for dog. I stood there and watched him lick his chops then sniff at a pile of books nearby. I blurted “Don’t touch those! Or… or... Ill call animal control!” The dog just perked his folded ears up and resigned himself to watching me curiously as if to say, why are you in my home? I considered him and felt rather displeased. Maybe. I considered. If I let him stay, just for tonight, then we will leave in the morning. I figured my reasoning there was flawed, but I had no other options. I would never touch his filthy fur in order to shove him out, and I didn’t actually own a phone because phones often carry more germs than toilet seats. So, I reluctantly surrendered to the fact that this dirty dog would be staying the night.

Andrew- Day 2

I have spent nearly three hours cleaning up the disaster the dog had made. So many precious books had been knocked over. A few regrettably had been chewed up and had unimaginable germs crawling all over them. All that poor perfectly good information, thrown away. As for the dog, he wouldn’t leave. So, I put him out in the yard as I cleaned and organized. Now it was finally his turn to get clean. I grabbed some shampoo and a scrub brush and strutted out to the yard. The big dog perked his ears and wagged his tail. He was panting and drooling happily, but I knew he wouldn’t be for long. I had a rope that I had kept just for emergencies. Its always good to be prepared. I used the rope to tie a makeshift leash on the dog, doing my absolute best not to touch him as he made attempts to advance on me. After a few failed attempts I finally managed to get the rope around his scruffy neck.

I tied the rope tightly to a small tree then poured a sizeable amount of shampoo on his back. I grabbed the hose and my long scrub brush and began to scour him thoroughly. I scrubbed and scrubbed until the water ran crystal clear from his back. The dog’s eyes were wide as dinner plates and I thought triumphantly. This is what he gets for messing up my system! I filed it in my brain under C for clean and T for triumph. Unfortunately, the dog got me back and as soon as I turned the hose off, he showered me in a spray of water droplets as he shook. “Ah! No! No stop!” Even though my brain was screaming, So many canine germs! I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Andrew- Day 3

I realized if the dog was going to stay for any longer, I couldn’t keep feeding him lunch meat from my fridge. I’ve managed to figure out how to order him a bag of generic dog food on my computer. I filed it in my brain under D for dog and F for food. I almost never use the computer, only ever to order my own food. I didn’t want him to starve though. I wouldn’t wish that on any animal, even this big gangly mutt.

He has been mostly well behaved. Every time he tried to chew on one of my precious books, I sprayed him with a spray bottle. He learned rather swiftly that touching the books was a no. I even have begun to tentatively pet him. He’s not exceptionally soft, but at least he’s clean. He will often either sit by me as I read and just gaze up with his big brown eyes, with his head resting on my thigh, or follow me around while I clean, his tail wagging ferociously. I’ve never had a pet, so I’m not familiar with the ways of animals except from in books. Also, I’m in no way calling him a pet, he is just an animal I’m currently responsible for. That’s all. I had a perfect system for living and organizing my life and he is in no way part of that system, but I cannot help but wondering if maybe he could be integrated in.

Andrew- Week 1

I regret to say I have named the dog. His name is Archimedes. Though I’d swore I wouldn’t keep him, I’ll reluctantly admit I’m enjoying his presence. He is filed in my brain under P for pet. I’ve had to put some of my books out of the way, but now I figure I don’t mind it as much. I’ve also bought him some toys because one of my books said it would prevent him from chewing things up. Its slightly more difficult to keep my house spotless but luckily, he doesn’t shed much, and I keep up with him the best I can. I’ve thought about buying a leash and taking him out for walks, but I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that. Maybe I’ll get there someday. He really is a good dog. I will admit he’s really helped me a lot. I feel safer and happier with him. I also realized something from Archimedes. I thought I could learn everything in the world from books, but I realized, I couldn’t learn love.