Canine Salvation

Liberation day has never been my friend. For starters, it’s never really meant much to me; I mean I’m as patriotic as the next guy but have never felt the need to exhibit it ostentatiously. Second, despite my best efforts, I’ve never actually found an annual liberation day tradition that doesn’t make me want to tie myself to an anchor and jump in the ocean. 

Also, the firework aspect of it is a real turnoff for me. I have no problem with people expressing themselves but setting off pyrotechnics in the sky is just a waste of time and money. Call me crazy but disturbing the neighbors (and especially their dogs) with loud noises while blowing off my fingers is not my idea of a good time 

Growing up, my folks attempted to initiate their own family tradition for us (ranging from events at the local stadium to neighborhood barbecues) but, despite throwing countless ideas at the wall, nothing ever really seemed to stick. That is until we one day received an invitation to spend LD at the Ross estate. 

The Rosses were family friends we had known for more than two decades and, despite a few hiccups over the years, we had remained close. Theirs was in a decent neighborhood & the house next door looked like it could very well have belonged to an A-lister trying to hide from the paparazzi far away from la la land. 

My folks had asked if I wanted to tag along and admittedly I was a bit apprehensive initially but ultimately opted in. As we pulled in, I was suddenly reminded of the origin of all that apprehension. The matriarch of said family looks better than anyone that age has any business appearing. You’ll be fine, Brad - the voice in the back of my head - kept telling me, Just focus on the canines. 

You see, the Rosses had a long history of their house featuring beloved dogs they absolutely adored. From the original black lab to the energetic corgi to the two they currently cater to: a great dane and a sheepdog. They’ll probably never win best in show but they were the sweetest companions you could ever hope for. 

As the welcoming committee came out to bark at us, I helped schlep in the watermelon we had brought for them. Some of the new additions to the house were an enclosed fence in the front yard (presumably to contain the pets) and what appeared to be a dog house in the backyard that had no business being that big. 

We convened in the backroom overlooking the backyard and the dogs, Jack and Chloe, joined us. Doing my best to pretend she didn't exist, I preoccupied myself entirely with the dogs. Jack was the new kid on the block so I hadn't actually met him until a rencounter with Mr. Ross on the trail a few months prior.

At the time, he didn’t appear all that friendly as my attempts at petting him were met with barking. This time, however, for whatever reason, he appeared to be in a more amiable mood as the petting was met with no discernible objections. Maybe they slipped some xanax into his kibble or something. 

While Mr. Ross began firing up the grill, Mom began chatting it up with Mrs. Ross as the yentas did what they do best. As for me, I found Chloe in the foyer and began playing with her, anything to fend off unwanted thoughts. She was clearly getting up there in age but was more than happy to play with any willing participants. 

With no one else in earshot, I actually took the time to explain to her how lucky she was to not have to deal with certain human situations. When you have four paws and fur, people couldn’t care less whether you have an SO or not. As a human male, however, your mom never shuts up about it. 

It was honestly difficult to discern whether she was able to comprehend any of what I was saying but regardless, it was nice to have someone to talk to who couldn’t judge you even if she wanted to. Because judgment is a foreign concept to her, as it should be to the rest of the human race. 

After an indeterminate amount of time, she dozed off and I headed back to the living room just in time for dinner. My folks are not big meat eaters but they have no idea what they were missing. To this day, I have no idea what he did to those hot dogs but, whatever it was, the end result was a treat impossible to beat. 

That’s why it almost seemed like a waste when they fed the leftovers to the dogs but I still thoroughly enjoyed the one I had. Just put it out of your mind. In addition to those carnivorous delights, we were also treated to spaghetti and the sweet sensation that is the American watermelon. 

When all was said and eaten, I finished my can of sparkling water and made a beeline for the foyer. The meal had reached its natural conclusion so, naturally, we were all determined to get as far away from that room as possible. At that moment, we were essentially outlaws fleeing the scene of the crime.  

Through some sick twist of fate, I ended up in the front room, the piano looming large over the figurines and other various tchotchkes dispersed throughout the area. Chloe was there in all her cuteness but still napping soundly in the corner. I suppose being 91 years old in dog years will do that to you. 

Frantic for something else to do, I didn’t have to look far. After being provided with a tasty treat in the form of a strawberry popsicle, I couldn’t help but notice the giant bookshelf looming large over the rest of the room. There was nothing particularly intriguing but it didn’t really have to be, did it? 

All it had to do was kill time and it was particularly adept at chronological homicide. I pulled out the first book I found and dove in. Admittedly, it got off to a bit of a slow start but, after the first few pages, it started picking up. The whole thing was written as a satire that proved to mostly fall flat but it was sufficiently engrossing which was all that mattered. 

After a bit, I came out of it and started looking around. You could tell there were kids living here solely by the fact that random household objects were strewn about in the most random places. I briefly browsed through the paper and left it on the table. It was just more of the usual: dumb people doing dumber things. 

By the time I meandered back to the front room, the dog had gone MIA. I looked out the window and there she was, trying to turn a squirrel into her next meal. I wasn’t supposed to leave without telling anyone but these were exigent circumstances. Cracking open the window just enough for me to squeeze through, I went after her. 

Initially, it was not going well. Despite my incredible feats on the track team, I was nowhere close to catching her. After about five minutes, however, I caught a second wind and my feet went into overdrive. When I finally caught up with her, we had made it all the way to the lake a mile and a half down the road. 

There she was, munching on her evening snack and wagging her tail contentedly. I waited until she finished and picked up the leash. I half-expected her to resist and try to deviate from the path but she went with me willingly. In fact, not once during the entire walk back did she attempt to pull away. 

As we traversed our way through the trees, I could see the sun taking its final bow just below the horizon. There was something strangely reassuring about knowing liberation day was coming to a close and also something ironic about the fact that, even on this day, our canine companions were not able to run free. 

As we passed the miniscule creek we used to go fishing in as kids, I started to think people might recognize Chloe. This was her neighborhood, after all, and Mr. Ross walks her periodically so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility people might notice she was seemingly being walked by a complete stranger.

But no one’s neck consisted of rubber that day. In fact, if anything, they seemed to deny our very existence, preferring instead to bury their noses in their phones or pick up after their own pets. Anything to avoid genuine accountability. Sometimes, apathy really is the best medicine, albeit in small doses.

As we turned back onto our street, my thoughts couldn’t help but drift to whatever awaited us within those hallowed walls. Would we get caught trying to sneak back in like an 80’s kid just getting back from a wham concert? Honestly, they were so engrossed in their own gossip, I’d be shocked if they even noticed we were gone. 

I opened the window and she jumped right on through. For an old girl, she was surprisingly agile. After crawling through right after her, I began composing my faculties while attempting to lift myself up off the floor. Fortunately, no one else was in the room, indicating our absence had flown under the radar. 

I gave the room a once-over and Chloe was sitting there in the corner, tongue out and tail wagging. As I rose to my fett, I stumbled upon an old tennis ball under the piano. I looked at her and back at the tennis ball. This went on for a good, long while. Finally, I threw it to her and she promptly caught it with her teeth. 

I said drop it and she let it go to the floor. It rolled back to me and I picked it up. I looked back up at her and she was still sitting there panting, looking quite content. Slowly, I came to realize that, by Jove, I think we’ve got something here. Thus began the start of something beautiful, something no one could have foreseen. 

After losing all concept of time, the adults pulled themselves away from their indulgences just long enough to venture over to the front room and find us still playing fetch. They took the opportunity to inform me that my folks were ready to go, “But who’s going to keep playing fetch with her?”

“Don’t worry,” responded Mr. Ross, “I can sub in.” I looked out the window and, sure enough, darkness was gradually permeating the sky. They’re not particularly keen on driving at night so if they were adamant about leaving, I felt it only fair to respect their wishes. It’s okay, Brad said to me, You can go now. 

Realizing she was in good hands, I handed him the tennis ball and followed the folks out the front door. As we said our goodbyes and headed for the CR-V, I surreptitiously moved over to the window to see if he had followed through and, sure enough, he did. That was all the catharsis I needed. 

Climbing into the backseat, I began continually staring out the back window until the pineapple-colored house had faded from view. As we departed, it all slowly began to sink in. At the end of the day, I was that same hyperactive dog, forever chasing a squirrel he could never catch.