So This Is How The World Will End: by Rick Castro 8/21/2020
He was my baby for one night only.
On one of the hottest days yet in the high desert of Southern California, I’m in downtown Phelan; which consists of one intersection,
a couple fast food drive thru’s, Stater Bros, tiny Post Office and a library that’s closed for the duration of the plague. Suddenly it starts to rain. From 95 degrees to rain, just like that. I’m driving down Sheep Creek Road and it begins to hail! Yes, you read that correctly, there is now a hailstorm. As I drive pass Rick’s Cafe, (no affiliation) and turn onto Silver Ridge Road, I see a little animal darting up the road. It’s definitely not a coyote, it’s not a bobcat. It moves differently than a bunny. As I get closer I realize that it is a little dog!
Scared outta its little mind and aimlessly running while trying to dodge the hail, this is one of those events you see on youtube,
but now for me it is happening in real time. I pull slowly behind him and can see how exhausted he is. His short little legs are not getting him very far. He is completely traumatized. Now he is afraid of my truck! He’s gonna have a little doggie heart-attack! I pull up alongside him, come to a stop and open my door. “Come here baby, come on, come on.” Without hesitation he jumps into the drivers side cab, and sits shivering on the floor next to my feet. My new little friend is soaking wet and trembles for the remainder of the drive to Bee’s cabin, which is only one block away. My new little baby slinks his way up my legs and positioned himself on my lap, shaking like a leaf. When I go to open the front gate I can see he’s worried I will leave him. When I go to close the front gate, he whimpered thinking I was leaving him again. Clearly he had abandonment issues, and maybe he was actually abandoned. He had no collar, but is clearly well fed and healthy.
I take him inside Bee’s cabin, wrap him in a towel and we sit down together on Bee’s beige sofa from the eighties. There we sat for an hour or so as he shivers with post trauma as I do my best to comfort him.
When he finally stops shaking he falls asleep on my lap, and there we stay for the rest of the afternoon. Now that he’s calmed down
I try to give him water and feed him. Of this he has no interest. Every time I get up he follows me as close as possible. He becomes my four legged shadow. I decide not to name him because I know I cannot keep him. The area of Bee’s cabin is coyote country. It would be impossible to keep a small dog inside at all times. Back in Hollywood I live in an apartment. I think it’s cruel to have a dog in an apartment. A dog needs a yard. I’m also contractually not allowed.
My new little friend is the perfect houseguest. He waits patiently for me to escort him for outdoor pee breaks. We do this together.
He prefers the tires of my dad’s hand me down 1990 Ford Explorer as his fire hydrant of choice. I stick to my usual white sandy spot.
I offered him foodie numerous times, but he doesn’t want to eat. I finally get him to drink water, and after I warm it up, a bit of leftover chicken.
We spend the rest of the day lallygagging about, being lazy bears in the mid day heat of 98 degrees. I try to post on Phelan Lost Dogs page on Facebook, but for some reason the administrator takes my post down. I have my cousin post on Deerhaven Neighborhood Watch Site, since I’m not able. I am not listed as resident at Bee’s cabin.
A couple people claim they are the owner, but nobody comes forward and actually calls or reaches out further. Later in the afternoon
I take him to three different homesteads to see if he might be a runaway, with no luck. I refuse to knock on the doors of four different homes with Trump 2020 flags. If he belongs to any of these household’s, they are not getting him back from me. A lady with two different hair colors living at a homestead with many American flags and mermaids, suggests I call animal rescue. “There are lost or abandoned dogs on this road all the time. Animal rescue is the best way for someone to find them.” She gives me their phone number, as did the only animal hospitals in the area I called asking for help.
That evening we listen to music together and watch a couple flicks with my little house guest on me lap the entire time. When its time to go to bed, he hesitates to see if he’ll be invited into the bedroom. When I tell him to jump up, he makes several sadly cute attempts to do so, but he is simply too short. I have to lift him up and place him next to me where we spooned the entire night.
In the morning we have an early breakfast together in the patio, then walk around the property just to check things out. As he lays on his back, playing with Bee’s pillows, I confirm by phone that animal rescue will be arriving in ten minutes. I take him outside, sit him on my lap and tell him how sorry I am that I can’t keep him. I would love to, but it’s simply not possible. When I opened the gate to let in the animal rescue truck, he cries. He knows his visit is coming to an end.
As officer Affleck, (no relation) from animal rescue places him in a holding cage within the truck he begins to shiver uncontrollably, just like when I first found him 24 hours ago. How did it all end up like this? I was trying to do the right thing by rescuing this obviously abandon dog off the highway in the middle of the high desert during a hailstorm! What were my options?
My dear friends who try to act like they’re helping only sound off judgement calls screaming at me in all caps- DO NOT GIVE HIM TO ANIMAL RESCUE!!!!! THEY WILL KILL HIM! I PRAY YOU DON’T. DO SUCH A THING!!!!!!!
Well guess what….… I have a conscious and a soul also, just because i’m not as fuckin dramatic as you. I’m living in the middle of the rural desert. There are limited to no resources. This isn’t the fucking city.
Officer Affleck promises my baby will not be destroyed, as I ask for the fifth time. I can’t get that Sophie’s Choice image outta my mind as my dear little baby, scared for his life gives me the saddest doe eye expression. He’s a senior little dog. I was his last hope….… Now I know what its like to give up a child. I am so depressed I can’t even write anymore. This is what lack of choice does to the soul.
I am in despair.
So this is how the world will end.
copyright- rick castro-8/2020
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