and she’d sit with her head held high while the awful little
thing would crawl out from under her and get lost in some
crack in the wall. Y ou ever seen a proud dog? They have this
look o f pride that could break your heart like they done
something for you the equivalent o f getting you out from
under an avalanche and they are asking nothing in return, just
that you look at the aquiline dignity o f their snouts. I got to say
I loved her more than m y heart could bear and w e’d go on
walks and to the park but the park near me was full o f broken
glass and winos and junkies and I was afraid for her, that she’d
hurt her feet. Y o u couldn’t really let her run or anything. She
ate a lot, and I didn’t, but I felt she had certain rights, because
she depended on me or someone, she had to; so I felt I had to
feed her and I felt I had to have enough m oney and I felt her life
was in m y hands and I felt her life was important and I felt she
was the nicest, most kind creature I ever knew. She’d sit with
me and watch the door when the locks fell apart but she didn’t
grasp it and I couldn’t count on her sense o f danger, because it
w asn’t attuned to the realities o f a w om an’s life. Someone
might be afraid o f her or not. Someone might hurt her. I’d die
i f they hurted her. I’d probably have throwed m yself on her to
protect her. I ju st couldn’t bear the thought o f someone
hurting her. Her name was Gringo, because the man who had
her and who named her w asn’t a fine, upstanding citizen, he
was degenerate, and I was afraid he would hurt her, and I was
afraid she would die, and I think there is nothing worse than
knowing an animal is being hurt, except for a child, for which
I thank God I don’t have one, even though my husband would
have taken it away from me, I know. If something’s in your
charge and it must love you then for something cruel to
happen to it must shatter your heart into pieces, by which I
mean the pain is real and it is not made better by time because
the creature was innocent and you are not; or I am not. I kept her
fine. I kept her safe. I kept her sleek and beautiful and without
any sores or any illnesses or any bad things on her skin or any
marks; I kept her gleaming and proud and fine and fed; I kept
her healthy and I kept her strong and I kept her happy; and she
loved me, she did. It was a little beyond an ignorant love, I
truly believe. She knew me by my reverence for her; I was the
one that lit up inside every time my eyes beheld her. I never
could train her to do anything but sit; usually I said sit a second
after she had done it, for my own self-respect; and she pulled
me about one hundred miles an hour down the street; I loved
her exuberance and could not condemn it as bad behavior; I
loved that she was sweet and extrovert and unhaunted and I
didn’t want any shadows forming on her mind from me
shouting or pulling or being an asshole in general; I couldn’t
