UNITED STATES—That June of 2022 there came a seismic phone call. It came precisely at one of those vulnerable moments, the last day of school. The tantalizing nearness of freedom, so longed for and dreamed of, was palpable. I could smell it, just like the smell of shipping container in a Target store. I was turning in my key. And a phone call came into the school office.
“Hello, Dad. How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
“I called to tell you there’s going to be a new addition to our household. A rescue dog.”
“Take it back. Take it back… We already have one dog. And it’s a small house.”
“I can’t take it back. I already picked it up from the owner in Van Nuys. I can’t take it back. You have to meet her.” This is about time I ought to have replied with an emphatic You are defying me!
“It’s reddish brown and was found wandering around Echo Park Lake. And she just got to be too much for the rescuer to handle.”
And so, the dog, already named Lupe during the transit from Van Nuys, was delivered in my daughter’s Mini-Cooper, rescued from the rescuer. Unleashed into our lives, this ravenous kinetic mass of puppy, all thirty-five pounds of sinew muscle and long legs every groping for where the keenest pain could arrive as she tried to unload all that energy and love. She tore up clothes, chewed on books, furniture, you name it.
Lupe brought an aspirational something. The minute I saw her, I had a vision of a Spanish-style house in the Hollywood hills, with plenty of garden to roam around in. It may be my dream, more than Lupe’s, but she certainly unlocked it.
Even today, pondering the traumatic day of Lupe’s arrival, my gaze rose to the Stetson hat, one that my grandfather’s brother had left during a visit to Idaho in the late 1920s. I always prized that hat, which saw me through many travels throughout the West. And there it is still (of necessity transferred to a high Lupe-free zone, sans the leather sweatband embossed in gold: the store it came from in Sweetwater, Texas, and the manufacturer John B. Stetson, Philadelphia. Lupe munched it, given the irresistible allure of sweat-soaked leather. And her teeth also did a bit of mayhem on the bow.
I’ve grown accustomed to the slightly thorny feel of a hat whose inner band has been devoured by a canine.
Oddly, this best friend of humans has turned me against humans. That “helpful” neighbor who recommended that I take Lupe to dog obedience school was on the mark. I ran with it. The class was early Sunday mornings, wonderful teacher. Everything she taught was laden with practical use. And what really stuck was the notion that dogs respond best to one-word commands. And I think that is a valuable lesson in dealing with people to. Keep it short and direct.
Thanks to Lupe’s capricious nature, she was disinvited from the class, as a menace to the other dog owners, fearing for themselves and their pets. I continued to attend, eager to learn techniques for dealing with Leapin’ Loca Lupe.
To be continued…
