Strays in the Time of COVID

Guy slipped into the alley, staying in the shadows, searching to be certain he was the only one there. After a moment he moved farther in, coming to a sudden halt when he heard movement a few yards ahead of him, on the far side of a large Dumpster. Please, please let it be a rat or…or something. He was still recovering physically and emotionally from the beating he’d gotten from his father and didn’t want to become the target of punks who got off on hurting people who lived on the streets. That happened too often these days when so many people took their rage at the pandemic out on those who had fallen between the cracks. Like me, now, because there’s no way I’m going back home. Next time he’ll kill me. All because he won’t accept I’m not what he wanted in a son. He was lucky, he supposed, that he’d been able to avoid the punks, so far. Not his father’s rage though. He’d managed to stuff a few changes of clothes and some necessities, like his sketchpads and pencils and a couple of extra masks, into his backpack and had almost made it out of the house before his father caught him and bodily threw him into the backyard, telling him never to show his ‘pussyass’ face in the neighborhood again. That had been his father’s derogatory name for him because even at eighteen Guy was slender enough he obviously wasn’t a jock—at least according to his father. What really pissed him off was the fact that Guy wasn’t interested in sports and other such ‘manly’ pursuits like cars and girls. Instead, when he came home from school, he would go to his room where he spent his time reading, writing, and drawing—even more so when the high school went to remote learning because of the pandemic. “No real man does crap like that,” his father had told him more than once. “And get a damned haircut,” he’d add angrily, because Guy wore it longer than his father liked. “It’s not that bad,” Guy would protest, which was the truth. It just wasn’t a buzz cut like his father’s. Well, it is now. He ran his hand over his head and shuddered. That had happened when his father had returned from a business trip almost a week ago. He was in a foul mood because he hadn’t made as many sales as his boss had expected—and had gotten a dressing down from the man as a result. At least that’s what Guy had overheard him tell his mother, ranting about how unfair it had been. When Guy came downstairs for dinner that evening his father had taken one look at him and ordered “Get your ass to the barber in the morning. And don’t give me any sass about it’s not being safe because of Covid. We all know it’s no worse than the flu.” Taking a deep breath, Guy shook his head. “It’s my hair. I can wear it the way I want.” His father’s reply had been a brutal slap, which made Guy’s mother gasp in dismay, before he grabbed Guy’s arm and marched him up to the bathroom. “Sit your pussyass down,” he said, pointing to the toilet seat before getting the scissors from the cabinet. When Guy tried to escape, his father had backhanded him so hard he fell to his knees. Yanking him to his feet, his father forced him to sit and then proceeded to cut his hair close to his scalp. “Clean up that mess,” he ordered when he’d finished, meaning the hair littering the bathroom. When Guy didn’t move fast enough to suit him, he hit him again. That seemed to release all the anger he felt toward his boss, Guy, and the world in general. The ensuing beating had left Guy sobbing in pain, which further infuriated his father. Dragging him to his bedroom, he ordered him not to leave until he apologized for not being man enough to take a few well-deserved punches. Instead, Guy had packed what he could and then tried to sneak out of the house while his parents were in the dining room. His father had seen him and physically made certain he left. Scrambling to his feet when he landed on his ass in the backyard, Guy limped away, his father’s angry words echoing behind him. “And here I am,” Guy said under his breath, four days later, as he waited for whoever had made the noise he’d heard to show themselves. When they didn’t, he crept closer to the Dumpster, ready to run if necessary. As he reached it, he heard a low growl and froze. It’s only a dog. But still…What if it’s a big one, trying to defend its territory? Not an idea he liked, but not a scary as the thought it could have been punks waiting to waylay him. He took off his backpack, holding it defensively as he eased cautiously along the front of the Dumpster. He was almost to the far side when he heard another growl followed, unbelievably, by a meow. Cats don’t growl like a dog, do they? Steeling his nerve, he went around the corner of the Dumpster and stopped, his eyes widening in surprise. A large, mangy mutt stood there, with a small gray kitten between its front paws. Taking off his mask, which by city law he had to wear, he stuck it in his pocket and said softly, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to do anything to you.” The mutt looked as if he didn’t believe him, but made no move to attack, although it did growl again. Dropping to one knee, Guy held out his hand, ready to pull it back if the dog tried to bite it. The dog remained where it was. The kitten, however, bounced toward Guy, meowing happily as if it had found another friend. The dog woofed what Guy thought was a warning, which the kitten ignored as it rubbed against Guy’s hand. “Aren’t you the cute one?” Guy told it, scratching behind the kitten’s ear. That earned him a loud, happy purr in reply. “See.” Guy looked at the mutt. “I’m safe, honest.” The dog relaxed enough to sit back on its haunches, warily eying Guy. The kitten bounced back to the dog, still purring as it leaned against his front leg, looking up at him and then back at Guy, as if to say, “I trust him.” “I won’t hurt you, I promise,” Guy whispered, reaching over to tentatively pat the dog. For a second he thought the dog would at best pull away, and at the worst attack. He sighed in relief when he did neither, allowing Guy to run his hand over the coarse hair on his head. Taking a closer look, Guy thought from the markings on his face that the dog might have some shepherd in him, mixed with some other long-haired breed. Now that he had relaxed, he didn’t seem quite so fearsome. “Who do you belong to, and why are you hanging around alleys?” Guy asked, running his hand over the dog’s neck, searching for a collar under the thick hair. He didn’t find one, and the kitten didn’t have one, either. “Runaways, like me?” Obviously neither animal answered, but he had the feeling they might be. Either that or someone had dumped them on the streets to fend for themselves. A lot of people had done that after the pandemic had struck, fearful their pets would catch the virus and pass it on to their owners, despite the experts saying that wasn’t possible. “Did the same person own you, or did you make friends because you’re afraid of people? Though you don’t seem too afraid of me, now, especially you, cat.” Guy sat down with his back against the Dumpster so he could pick up the kitten, settling it between his crossed legs. The dog watched, his eyes moving from Guy to the kitten, and then back to Guy. Slowly he eased closer to them, pausing to sniff Guy’s backpack. “I don’t have any food in there,” Guy told him, figuring he was probably hungry. After all, a dog can’t dig in the trash. Well, he probably could if he found a trash can, but if what I’ve discovered means anything, the only places to find something to eat are in Dumpsters or the trash bins outside of fast-food joints and no way could he knock them over. “Hold on,” Guy said, getting up so quickly that the kitten skittered back between the dog’s feet. “I’ll be right back.” He walked down the alley to a Dumpster that belonged to a restaurant, hoping there’d be something edible in it—for him and the animals. He hated the idea of digging through the remains of other people’s meals, looking for his dinner, but he had quickly figured out it was the only way to survive without spending the few dollars he’d left home with. He wanted to hang onto the money in case of emergencies. Not that fending off starvation isn’t one, but who knows what’ll happen before I get up the nerve to start begging. He’d read articles online about street people for a class assignment and knew that was one way to make money for food. There were other ways, too, but he swore to himself that there was no way he’d sell drugs, or his body, no matter how desperate he was. The restaurant leavings were scanty but he managed to find several slices of bread, a bit of steak, two partially-eaten hamburger patties, and lettuce and tomatoes he figured had once been a couple of salads. He used the bread to create two sandwiches of a sort, which would make it easier to carry the food back to where he’d left the animals. When he turned around, he found he wouldn’t have to do that. The dog was standing there, with the kitten right behind him, their gazes locked on Guy’s hands. He gave the steak to the dog and some of the hamburger to the kitten before returning to where he’d left his backpack. As soon as he sat, they were there, watching him. “Hell, I can deal with veggie sandwiches,” he told them, dividing the rest of the hamburger between them. It was gone before he taken two bites of his own meal. He smiled when the kitten pawed his knee, shaking his head. “I don’t think you’d like bread, lettuce, and tomato. You, on the other hand…” He tossed the dog half a slice of bread. “That’s it for now, you two. Maybe we’ll get lucky in another alley. Well, if you stick around.” He wondered what the chances were of that. Sure, they followed me to the Dumpster, but that might be it. “Or not,” he said a minute later when he got up, put on his backpack and mask, and started down the alley, keeping a cautious eye open for anyone who might be interested in him in a bad way. They passed a couple of homeless men sitting in doorways, who pulled back into the shadows when the dog growled at them, but thankfully didn’t attack. By the time they reached the end of the alley, the dog was walking beside Guy. The kitten, being much smaller, was trying its best to keep up. Guy paused long enough to pick it up and then check the street. It was getting late enough that there weren’t many people around, but those who were seemed harmless. Or at least they’re not paying any attention to me. Still, he wasn’t taking any chances. He waited for a break in traffic then hurried across the street to the next alley. When they got there, the dog trotted ahead of him, swinging its head right and left, for all the world like he was making certain it was safe to go down it. Apparently he thought it was because he kept going, although he stopped partway down to growl at someone huddled in a doorway. Then he looked back a Guy as if asking, “Are you coming or not?” Guy followed him, feeling safer than he had since leaving home. Not that he thought the dog would really protect him in case of trouble despite his reaction to other homeless people in the alleys, but having him around might give a punk second thoughts. The dog paused beside a Dumpster, sniffing, moved on to the next one, and stopped. “You smell food?” Guy asked. Putting the kitten down, he lifted the lid. “Jackpot, well sort of.” There were cans of food, mostly tuna, ravioli, spaghetti, and soups. It took him a moment to realize he was behind a small grocery store, and that the cans were all past the ‘sell by’ date marked on the lids. “Now all I need is a can opener. It there’s a convenience store anywhere close…” He hated digging into his small funds but decided this did constitute an emergency and one can opener wouldn’t break him. Putting the cans in his backpack he dug around, looking for what had caught the dog’s attention in the first place. Under a couple of bags he found two one-pound packages of raw hamburger, also past their ‘sell by’ date. He wasn’t about to eat it, but he knew the dog and kitten would with no hesitation. Unwrapping one, he dumped the meat on the ground and used the Styrofoam tray to cut off a quarter of it for the kitten. To his surprise, the dog seemed to know he wasn’t to touch it, leaving it for the kitten while he gobbled down his share. Guy found an old newspaper and wrapped the other package in it before putting it into his backpack. As soon as the animals finished eating, Guy picked the kitten up again, moved down the alley to the street, then turned left and walked to the corner of the block. Looking both ways, he spotted an open convenience store. When he got there, he found a dark corner in the parking lot, put the kitten down, and told it and the dog to wait. Whether they understood the word or only his tone of voice, they sat, watching as he went into the store. He roamed the aisles, well aware that the clerk was keeping an eye on him. Bet he thinks I’m going to shoplift something. He hated the idea, but knew it was realistic. Finally finding a can opener, he took it to the counter, picking up a bottle of water from a cooler on the way. “You homeless?” the clerk asked from behind the Plexiglas barrier separating him from customers. He sounded sympathetic, not demeaning. Guy nodded at he took out his wallet. “Tell you what, that water’s on sale. Buy one, get one, so go get another.” Although he hadn’t seen a sign on the case saying it was, Guy didn’t hesitate to do what the clerk said. He paid for his purchases and thanked the clerk for his kindness. “Eh, no problem. I was there once, way back when. I’d throw in a couple of candy bars but they keep track of the inventory.” “Then you shouldn’t have let me have the water.” The clerk shrugged. “I’ll tell them I drank it, if they figure out they’re one short.” “Thank you!” “No problem. Grab some of the plastic spoons from the service counter, and some condiments if you want.” Guy did, thanked the man again, and left, returning to where he’d left the animals. He wondered if they’d still be there and was very relieved to find they were. He scooped up the kitten and with the dog right beside him walked a couple of blocks before turning onto a street where he knew there was a vacant house two blocks down that he could get into through a broken window in the basement. He’d found it the previous night, climbed inside, and felt his way to stairs leading to the first floor, hoping there wouldn’t be a dozen other street kids crashing there. There had been a couple, but they’d ignored him so he returned the favor. Using the meager illumination that spilled through the dirty windows from a streetlight, he’d made his way to a spot where he’d felt marginally safe—a small, debris-strewn room he thought had once been a pantry. He was glad it was summer as, unlike most of the other homeless people he’d seen, he didn’t have a sleeping bag or even a blanket to cover himself. * * * * When they arrived at the house, and the broken window, Guy stuffed his mask in his pocket before telling the dog, “We’re here.” The dog looked singularly unimpressed and Guy wondered if he’d balk at going inside. He hoped not, because he liked the sense of security the dog gave him. He put the kitten down before climbing through the window and then reached up to get it. Holding it against his chest, he looked at the dog who was eyeing him dubiously. “Come,” he whispered, taking two steps back. A moment later the dog jumped down beside him. Guy patted his head and then walked cautiously through the dark basement to the stairs. When they got to the top, the dog gave a deep growl, followed by a warning bark. Guy heard rustling and then someone called out, “Keep the dog away from us.” He wrapped his hand in the long hair at the dog’s neck, knowing it would do nothing to restrain him if he decided to attack whoever was there. “Behave,” he said firmly. The dog looked up at him and relaxed…marginally…as they walked through the empty kitchen into what had probably been the dining room. Three teens sat on sleeping bags along the far wall. The dog growled, again, but didn’t leave Guy’s side. “He gonna attack if you tell him to?” one of them asked, pulling back into the shadows against the wall. Guy shrugged. “He might, but I won’t unless you give me a reason.” The teen held up his hands. “Not looking for trouble.” A second one, who in the dim light appeared to be around eighteen, scowled as he took a length of pipe from his backpack and stood up. “You try anything, punk, and I’ll beat the s**t out of you and your dog.” “I’m not a punk,” Guy protested, grabbing the dog’s hair again when it seemed as if he might go after the guy with the pipe. “I’m homeless, like you.” “Uh-huh. The hair says different.” Guy knew he had a point. One he hadn’t thought of until that moment. “If I’d had a choice, it would still be as long as yours. My dad did this to me.” He ran his hand over his head. “Before he beat me and tossed me out.” “For real?” To Guy’s surprise, the voice sounded female. A moment later he saw he was right when she got up to join her friend, putting one hand on his arm. “Ease it back a notch, Mack. What kind of punk carries a cat with him?” “Maybe it’s an attack cat.” The third team member laughed as he stood to join them. Guy snorted. “Not that I know of, but then I only found it, and the dog, an hour or so ago. I think they’re strays, like, well, like all of us I guess.” “And they just happened to decide to keep you company?” the belligerent or, Guy thought, more likely protective teen asked. With a shrug, Guy nodded. “I fed them from a Dumpster and I guess they figured it would be a good idea to stick with me.” “Can I pet the cat?” the girl asked. “Umm, sure.” Guy put the kitten down. The girl knelt, smiling when it came to her outstretched hand, allowing her to rub its head. “What’s its name?” “I don’t know,” Guy told her. “Same with the dog. Like I said, I just found them and they don’t have collars or tags.” “You gotta name them. You can’t call them dog and cat and leave it at that.” “Well, he could,” Mack, the protective teen, said with a brief smile. He tossed the pipe on his sleeping bag, which Guy hoped meant he finally trusted him. “What’s another word for gray?” the last teen asked. “No clue,” Guy replied. “I know, you can call him, or her, Ghost, or Ash.” The girl picked the kitten up, turning it on its back. “Her, I think. No dick.” “Not sure you’d see it unless it was peeing,” Mack pointed out. “Well, she looks like a she, so how about Ghost. That’s, what do they call it? Gender neutral?” She looked up at Guy. “I suppose Ghost works. What do you think, cat?” Still holding the kitten, who of course didn’t answer Guy’s question, the girl returned to her sleeping bag and sat down, cradling Ghost in her arms. “Now, the dog needs a name.” Mack and the other teen sat, too. Mack patted the edge of his bag. “You can join us if you want, umm…?” “Don’t laugh. I’m Guy. A guy named Guy, which got me teased sometimes.” He hesitated before accepting Mack’s invitation. When he was seated the dog settled beside him, obviously having decided by then that the teens were no threat to his new friend. “I’m Dani, one ‘n’ and an ‘i’, and that’s Tone.” She nodded toward the third member of their team. “I think it’s short for Tony but he denies it.” “It’s not, damn it,” Tone stated emphatically. “Whatever.” She grinned. “So, dog, what’ll we call you?” Guy patted the dog’s head. “He looks like he’s part shepherd, but Shep is so lame.” “No s**t. Are you sure he’s a ‘he’?” “Yeah. He lifted his leg when he took a piss.” “Okay. Umm Buddy, ‘cause he’s you pal. Bear, Devil—” “Goliath,” Mack tossed out. “He’s pretty big.” “Razz, or Rebel,” Tone suggested. “If the kitten’s Ghost, maybe he could be Shadow.” Dani nodded hard. “Well…he has been following me, so maybe.” Guy looked at the dog. “What do you think?” Guy could have sworn the dog nodded, although he knew it was probably his imagination. Be that as it may, he decided Shadow worked. Getting to his feet, he said, “Come on, Shadow,” before taking Ghost when Dani handed her over. “Where you going?” Mack asked. “I found a small room when I was here last night. It’s, umm, cozy sort of.” “Meaning you feel safe there. Understood. Not that we’re going to give you any trouble now that we know you.” “I know. It’s…” Guy shrugged. “Got it. That’s probably why we didn’t see you last night when we got here. Just two other guys who disappeared when we arrived. “I saw them. They ignored me, thankfully.” Mack chuckled. “Probably glad you ignored them, too, instead of attacking them. The whole butch haircut and all. Oh, from the look of it, unless you hid it somewhere, you don’t have a sleeping bag or bedroll. You’ll need one, especially when you have to crash outside in an alley or wherever. There are a couple of drop-in centers where you can get one for free.” “And clothes and hygiene kits, and throw-away masks, and sometimes a meal if they aren’t crowded,” Tone added. “They’re not shelters, so you can’t sleep there, but otherwise they’re useful for people like us.” “You can’t go to a shelter, anyway, because of them.” Dani pointed to Ghost and Shadow. “No pets allowed, which sucks.” Guy nodded. “I wasn’t planning on that. I read somewhere they aren’t safe.” Mack waved a hand. “They’re…iffy.” “So I’m better off here?” “Yeah, until they tear the house down. That could happen soon if someone buys the property ‘cause it’s up for sale.” Guy grimaced. “Here I thought I’d found a safe place for a while at least.” “I know where you’re coming from. It is, for now,” Mack replied. “Okay, we’d better get some sleep while we can.” “Yeah, I know.” Guy hesitated. “It’s all right if I stay in here with you all?” Tone grinned. “Gonna break down and join us?” “For tonight, I guess.” Guy walked a few feet away from them and sat. “Thanks for, well, you know.” “No problem,” Dani and Tone replied at the same time, before the three of them settled down on their sleeping bags. Guy did the same on the hard floor, using his pack as a pillow. He was happily surprised when Ghost curled up on his chest and Shadow positioned himself against his side. I might not have a sleeping bag, yet, but between them they’ll keep me warm until I do.