It's Not Even Real

We were taking our usual walk down the street, Wieners and I on our normal stroll. As he trotted beside me, I peered at the sign up above. W-A-T-C-H O-U-T.               

“Huh!” I laughed, bending down to scratch my wiener dog. “Isn’t that just something?”

“This is the city, after all.” Wieners looked over at some poodles walking down the opposite sidewalk with their fancy collars and perfectly cut, clean fur. Wieners sighed. “Yeah—I know.” I patted a rough, calloused hand on his head. “You want a friend.”

I spread my arms to remind Weiners that he could make some at the dog park not too far down the sidewalk. I almost hit another person. But even if I did hit him, he wouldn’t have noticed. Staring at his iPhone, the guy was completely oblivious. Everyone, I looked around as I got up, was sucked into their own little worlds of technology. It was the norm of everyday New York City life, but I just didn’t understand the demand for such brain-sucking pointlessness. There was so much to see, do, hear, smell and learn in such a bustling city where someone could absorb so much just by opening their ears and eyes. All they had to do was smell the hotdogs frying in their grease over in the street cart, let the waft of waffles tempt them to bite into a crunchy, warm waffle or slurp a good ‘old Slurpie slushy from Dairy Queen or McDonald’s.

I guess they wanted to escape from all the loud, annoying, frustrating traffic, suffocating thick smoke and restaurants making me wince with claustrophobia just thinking about our walk last week. When I chanced bringing in Weiners, one of the waiters said no. Restraining my frustration with pursed lips and an inner sigh, we continued.

“Weiners.” I told him. “There’s the dog park I’ve been trying to get you to go to.” Some people gave me stares and weird looks, but I just ignored them. I learned this trick every time Weiners and I talked. He mattered infinitely more than strangers’ opinions. Weiners looked and then wilted, shaking his head—

“Come on, Wein. We’re in the way!” I tugged him forward, and we walked across a road onto the continuing sidewalk. We followed a chain-link fence down all the way to—

“Weiners!”

I spun around, confusion flooding me. I promise you I had the leash tightly snug around his scruff of a neck. I ran back, dodging people left and right. Then I lunged for Weiners, but he backed away, escaping my grab. My arms took in the air instead, and I fell to the pavement with a thud and a painful cry that no one heard. Scared was the theme here as I scrambled up, chasing after Weiners. He ran farther and farther, the leash always right out of my reach. Calling his name over and over, I soon grew desperate, yelling for him to heed my orders.

Weiners treated me like the pedestrians around me—I wasn’t there. He just ran this way and that way.

As I tracked Weiners down at food carts, restaurants, stores and even manholes, I gritted my teeth. That dog’s going to sleep outside all next week! I don’t care if it rains. He’ll have to overcome his ombrophobia. I kept calling for him, searching down alleyways, striving to get the attention of bus drivers, taxi cab honkers and pedestrians, but they all pretended I was invisible. Soon, I gave up this attempt, and just stood there, trying to remember where Weiners would’ve gone. Then I had an idea.

I raced back to the dog park. Nope—not there. I walked inside Worth Street Veterinary Center right beside it. When the doorbell rang, I tried not to wince—Weiners always barked, and Tammy, one of the staff, would throw him one of those cinnamon dog treats waiting for him to enjoy with happiness.

I walked up to the receptionist’s counter and rapped my knuckles on its dark blue wooden surface. Tammy looked up and grinned. “Hey—what brings you here?”      

“Weiners ran away. I was wondering whether you…” I squinted at her, leaning over the counter a little. “Are you aware everyone outside is ignoring me?”

She looked outside the windows behind the chairs. “No—why?”

“Because everyone is. I asked everyone I could if they saw Weiners—”

She whipped back to me and her face scrunched with worry. “Oh—Weiners!” Then she panicked a little. “Weiners is missing?” She turned around in her chair and grabbed the small grey bucket. Looking inside, she lamented, “He didn’t come here. There are still two more treats. I would’ve given him one.”

I stood back up, grimacing. “Okay. Thanks.” Walking out, I sighed and stood still in a spot under one of the hospital’s awnings. Okay—think, Ian. Where would Weiners run to? I tried the dog park again, eyeing each four-legged animal slowly and surely. No Weiner dog. Maybe…        

My shoulders slumped. Dragging my feet past two crossways, I scrunched my eyebrows at the signs above, each saying W-A-T-C-H O-U-T. And then slowly hiked my feet up a set of stairs. Unlocking and then pushing myself into the door like I had one of those hot, tiring days at the construction site, I stopped dead in the doorway. “Weiners!”

He came running out of his little tent. “Hey—what took you so long? I was hoping you brought me some—”      

“Naughty dog!” My hand stung a little from whacking my howling dog’s behind. “What’s happening, Weiners? I thought you trusted me? Even if I had no leash, you know better than that!”

“But, Master, I got scared.” He looked outside. “Look.”

I did. People all over were completely seduced by their iPhones, iPods, iPads and headphones. Everywhere I looked, they just bustled along, minding their own business. Not a human being ever bothered ripping away from their stupid electronics for a second. It was like they couldn’t.  

I returned to Weiners. “What’s going on?”     

He shook his head. “I think we’re living in the last days.”

I rolled my eyes. “Last days of what?”

“Life!” Weiners ran up to the window and jabbed outside with a paw. “What do you think they’re missing out on—the obnoxious noise of the men working with those grey, shiny—“

“Drills.”    

“Drills in their hands? They’re probably preparing to go underground to survive so when everyone else gets taken somewhere, they’ll climb out of those—”

“Manholes.”

“—to realize they’re the only ones alive.”

I stared at Weiners. But he just looked over at me and nodded like he had every excuse not to frighten me into wondering how he knew about any of this apocalypse. I thought. Why did Tammy talk to me? Why wasn’t I sucked into the same world like everyone else? Were we really the only three living in the last days?

I checked my watch. Sunday, 12:12 pm. June 30, 2022. I mean, it was a year after I earned my promotion from having fixed the drills and cranes many times, allowing the other men to work well and without any worry as to whether an accident or injury would happen. Then I started to get scared. Was I going to work tomorrow? Did the future matter anymore? Were Weiners and I going to survive underground for the next five years—if we get to even tomorrow?   

I tried staying calm by rubbing my hands together and smiling genuinely. But my hands couldn’t stop shaking. I pocketed them. “Weiners, we got to do something!”

Weiners shook his head sadly. “Can’t make the end of the world—”

“Weiners, stop scaring me! We’re fine. Would you stop creeping me out?” But Weiners didn’t stop whining when he jumped off the couch and bounded over to the door.

“Come on. I need to show you something, Master.”

I warned him about W-A-T-C-H O-U-T. He nodded, but I was relieved he didn’t act like he had already known about this before I did, and did not tell me. So I grabbed him, opened the door, and fled the house, running to the left. Every few signs I saw read W-A-T-C-H O-U-T on them. Some said the real street name. But others, I shivered as we went farther down the road, were warning me about something.     

I sprinted past people jerking out of the way and glaring at their phones and calling and talking nonstop into their phones. I clutched Weiners, petting him and telling him everything was going to be okay. He told me everything was going to be okay as well.

I hope so. I didn’t know how to respond to a talking dog who knows about the world ending. How do I answer—thank you? Thank you for what? Scaring me half to death with the knowledge that’s scarier than you knowing something I don’t—especially when you’re just a dog? I passed tall buildings, each looming high and threatening above me. But I stopped dead when I saw a cliff. The road, I stared at it, ended right where the cliff was formed. Jagged edges pointed towards the huge gap between the street like a shark’s razor-sharp teeth. I stepped back, my legs jittery.

“Now, Weiners. I’ll let you down. Stay by me.” I knew he would, considering he knew about this part, too, right? He did. I looked behind me and turned around. Everyone was heading right towards the Grand Canyon-like gap!

I shoved someone else close by away, warning her to beware of the huge gap down which she would fall to her death. She glared at me and then returned to her iPhone, jerking away whenever I tried to change her mind. Other people ignored me, walking towards their deaths. I did everything in my power—scream, throw things, wave my arms up and down, yell, order Weiners to growl and bare his teeth at them, grab their iPhones and everything else that started with i and kept them alive until they fell, never able to see another screen again.

“You’re going to fall to your deaths!” I got pretty close to the edge and Weiners and I mimicked falling into the pit. Some people looked at me and then at the gap. But they just kept going. Then I saw something strange—they would fall and then reappear. Just as if they were…

Weiners and I lunged, the dog and I hypocritically plunging to our deaths. As we fell, I apologized to Weiners for smacking him when he was a puppy for stealing and putting a huge hole in my favorite socks. I hope you forgive me!

“Master, this isn’t the end.”

“What do you mean—”

“No! Let’s go outside. Come on—”

“What are you talking about? We’re plunging to our death—”

“Master—”

I whipped away from my computer to steady my coffee mug. Looking right at Weiners, I stood up. “Don’t do that. You can kill my computer.”

“Come on!” He raced over to the door. “You’re killing daylight. We need to go on our Sunday walk, remember?”  

I stood still and blinked. And looked outside. Neighbors were waving hi, saying good afternoon, and driving casually. I looked back at Weiners and then grabbed his leash off the hook in the living room. Clipping the metallic hook to his dog collar ring, I smiled and opened the door.

“Let’s go, buddy. Let’s take a break from the video game world for a while!”

As we walked, I was admittedly relieved everyone wasn’t a screen-attached soul. There was no gap separating one side of the street from the other. No one was falling to their deaths. Weiners and I walked to the dog park, spent hours throwing Frisbee and then walked past my front door to—

“Where should we go, Wein?” I looked around at the colorful screens flashing colorful, bright ads for all kinds of products, stores and restaurants.

He looked up at me. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh…” I chuckled to myself and crossed the crosswalk after the green guy appeared. “Nothing.”

As we walked back onto a sidewalk, I decided to take a stroll downtown. Walking with Weiners was a good way to remind me I had a family. Someday, we may move. I was sick of the endless noise—

“Oh, Weiners.”

“Yeah?”

Some passersby gave us strange looks. “We’re coming up to a sign. Guess what it says?”

“What?” Weiners looked up, and squinted. But he couldn’t understand what was going on.

“Not W-A-T-C-H O-U-T!” I cracked up, hoping he joined in. But he just cocked his head, looking at me stranger than those strangers.    

“Whatever. We’re going somewhere new.”

“Like where?”

Like somewhere where there’s no traffic’s honking and sirens screaming! Once we got to a specific spot near the construction site, I told Weiners we’ll hang out here. I told him about my laborious job. He seemed interested, but then sighed and looked elsewhere, fidgeting.

“Let’s go to Tammy’s!”

Tammy’s was the veterinarian who threw him a dog bone treat every time we arrived—even if it were just to say hi. “Okay!”

I figured Weiners deserved it—he’d been waiting for me. Once he had finally swallowed the last bite, I waved Tammy goodbye, and we were on our way. “So,” Weiners began, “are you ever embarrassed I can talk to you?”

“No…what do you mean?”

“I’m talking. And you have to answer.”

“No.” I shook my head, and then pushed the metal fence door away from us to let Weiners into the huge dog park. “I’ve learned to keep to myself—”

Suddenly, Weiners ran up to every dog there, assumedly telling them he could talk to me. But the dogs would just sniff and look around, not interested in his secret. I grabbed a Frisbee from one of the hooks over on the wall of the adjacent pet store. Throwing it would distract him. But Weiners didn’t want to enjoy any of the usual fun we had. Weird.

I grabbed my excited dog, petting him, trying to calm him down. Someone called to me that this was a dog park so I should let my animal run free. I scowled at the person and tried getting his attention again. But Weiners wanted to teach everyone a trick—talk to their owners. I stopped, letting Weiners bark up a storm. Then a police officer stopped me.

“Sir, we will have to remove you and your dog from the dog park. Too much barking is hurting people’s ears.” I looked around. People had their hands over ears, and faces were pinched in pain. I was going to roll my eyes. People are so sensitive! I jerked a nod and replied respectfully. I grabbed Weiners, and we headed out.

“Come on, Mas—”

Weiners found his mouth clamped shut and was only able to breathe through his nostrils. He nodded, and I released him. “Be quiet.” I hissed, walking down the street.

“Okay.”

As we headed back into the city, I told Weiners I wanted to move to a town. Not too small; just enough to meet friendly neighbors and find another decent job. Weiners whined, but I comforted him. “Maybe there’ll be another Tammy at the vet!”

I merely grunted.

Both of us did end up moving. But I never went a day without getting onto my computer. Getting involved with that game was awesome! But as time went on, Weiners started being a little agitated. It was like he was a young dog acting suddenly way older. I told him to knock it off.

“Weiners!” I threatened to give him up. He objected.

I thought about what he was talking about. I bent down. “Weiners, I…” I knew I barely took him for walks. My game was completed—now I had to enjoy playing it. I promised him an hour a day. But he shook his head. I sighed but continued with my awesomely built video game. An hour became all afternoon. All afternoon became most of the weekend. I got so addicted one summer I completely forgot to buy Weiners his favorite toy. Besides, it was just a plaything!             

The next day, I called for Weiners after spending several hours creating my video game world a little more. I looked in the closet where one of my holed shoes might be in his mouth again. Nope; it was still there. I looked and looked, and then promised I’d walk him. Maybe we could go to the vet’s office and pick up a treat! He didn’t respond. Then I got a call from Tammy, our old receptionist.

“Tammy?”

“Yes. He’s here in this office. Someone picked him up on their move here to New York City, and rushed him to the hospital. He’s got a broken rib from running down the street and getting struck head-on by an SUV!”

I flew to NYC immediately. Bursting into the animal hospital, I wiped tears from my face, apologizing to Weiners profusely. I looked stupid, but I didn’t care. He took a painful breath and told me to relax: he was going to make it.

A few weeks later, I stood and sat by him as much as possible while he healed from his dog bed in the living room. No matter how much better he felt, I watched him like a hawk. “I know, I know.” As Tammy gave me a rundown of what to do with Weiners over the months, I looked at my dog as he lay panting on his pillow.  

Then the sign name came to mind: W-A-T-C-H O-U-T.

I laughed to myself. Yep. Watch out. Especially with your best…friend. From now on, Weiners and I played in the new dog park, me ensuring he relaxed after exercise. Weiners even hopped into my arms, telling me he didn’t need another friend anymore.

I nodded, grateful.