You ever saw a drunk person and felt something for them? Maybe shame or sadness? Was that person ever in your company? Maybe a friend or a family member? I’ve seen drunk people and felt certain ways but never been attached to in anyway to them until today.

I walked down the steps of the train station and opened up Sula by Toni Morrison. I had planned to walk and read all the way to my destination. However, I didn’t walk one block before I saw a stream of blood flowing down a set of freshly painted steps.

There, almost leveled with all looking down was a dead dog. A lot of blood was running down the stoop and a crowd formed around the dog. People watched in silence as a man covered his body with white sheets.

I kept walking and was about to open up Toni Morrison again when one lady jogged up behind me crying hysterically.

‘They killed my dog! They killed my dog!!”

No one stopped her and as I kept walking I wondered who they was. I watched her and how others around her responded, she was greeted by cautious stares. She kept a fast pace and pretty soon I saw only her head in the distance. I was now curious about this dog and the situation.

I completed my assignment then caught the bus back to the site. My camera now hanging around my neck and fewer people there, I begin to inquire immediately.

‘What happened?’ I asked, while snapping pictures.

‘She got ran over by a PC Richards Truck.’ The same man who covered the dog with a sheet was speaking. He was standing over the dog, worried and seemingly upset.

‘oh, My!”

‘Yeah, she got ran over and now I want to return her to the earth. I called 311 and they told me to put it in a black garbage bag and the city’ll come and pick it up. That’s not the way to bury her! I want to do it the right way and return her to the earth. Maybe I can bury her near the water.

‘You mean, down there on that land?

‘Yeah, I want to but I don’t know who to ask.

‘I think I can help. I know someone who knows someone who runs that land.

‘You can help me? Thank you so much! Everyone else is just watching me. Let me call my wife, she ran up the block. I don’t know what she’s doing. Can you give me the person’s number who can help me?

‘I don’t have their number but I can walk there and see if anyone is there and ask.

‘Thank you so much!!

I returned after speaking with one who was affiliated with the land and soon the dog was picked up and carried down to be buried.

Now, this wasn’t no little dog. It was a big dog that was dead for sometime now. Her fluids were now running and the blood was still coming from her side. The burial grounds wasn’t far but when carrying dead weight,  anything can seem extremely far away.

I begin to worry about Mr. Jerry and how far he could actually go.

We walked about 20 steps and reached a pile of trash waiting to be picked up by the sanitation department. Someone had threw out a huge cooler and all he saw was a box with wheels.

He carefully put his dog in there, his hands now filthy with the sludge from the body. He was not a happy man, but kept going. Perspiring now, he looked at the cooler and cursed it. For even though it had wheels, it was missing its handle. He looked around for ideas. While looking, a lady with two children came out and watched in horror as he pushed down Shannon’s head.

No words came out of their mouths.

The little boy looked at me with questions in his eyes. I begin to feel connected to Shannon and Mr. Jerry. I felt the need to say something as they refused to move.

‘It was ran over by a car and now we are taking it to be buried.’

‘She was ran over by a truck.’ Mr. Jerry corrected me while rubbing the dog’s head.

‘Oh.’ They little boy said. But the grandma now became suspicious. She pushed the little children along. At the same time, a group of happy teens approached. I prepared myself for their reaction.

They were laughing and stopped to look inside the cooler right before he closed it. They all saw Shannon’s head. And their last laugh was followed by an eerie silence. Their gait changed into a slow pace and after a couple of feet behind us, they stopped to watch. This time, I was too busy wondering how we were going to cross the bustling street. It was rush hour and he was moving too slow to cross with  Shannon inside a heavy cooler.

He began pushing the cooler in a absurd way down the block. His lanky body completely bent over. It was best to jay walk instead of going all the way to the cross walk.

We then came across young people smoking hookah outside a shop.

He stopped to ask them if they had a hand truck. They were having too much fun to care what this 50ish older man was saying and brushed him off. He got impatient and walked inside the shop. I watched the lady shake her head no and then they begin to argue.

A little girl and boy were standing near watching the entire show.

She shook her head and smiled. None of them understand him! Only my father can help him. She said matter- of – factually.

Well, maybe you can go get your father? I asked her.

I can, but he’s not used to talking to strangers! She said while getting up.

She ran to a man who was on the phone and begged him for his attention. Mr. Jerry came out of the shop and looked around desperately. The man on the phone looked at Mr. Jerry but no one said said anything. Then I told the entire story again. This time the hookah crowd along with some older folks and the children, listened to me.

They all looked at the blue Rubbermaid cooler.

Then her father spoke up. ‘Only the supper. No -‘

He searched for the correct word.

‘You mean, you don’t have access to the hand-truck?

‘Yes!’ He then looked at Mr. Jerry and said, ‘I don’t have access to the hand-truck’.

Mr. Jerry walked to the cooler and stood there in the street. Thinking.

‘Well, Mr. Jerry. We aren’t that far away. We have less then a block to go’

‘Yes! But this is dead weight! She’s not a feather! I need a hand-truck! This cooler is no good! Its worse than carrying her!

‘Mr. Jerry, do you still want to bury her?

‘Yes, but-

‘Okay, rest when you need too. Lets rest every 20 steps.’

He picked up the burdensome box while I counted. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10. He placed it down at 10.

‘You doing good Mr. Jerry. You made it almost to 15.

This was the first time he smiled. He didn’t even smile when I told him he could bury his dog on the land. ‘You should be my wife. You encourage me to keep going. Every time I try to do something with that lady, it goes wrong. I was the one who introduced her to Shannon. It’s my dog. She don’t understand, I feel too. This is my dog.’

I listened to him and when he finished, asked him if he was ready to go another 10 or maybe 5? He picked up the dead weight and went 20 steps took a break and went another 20. We had made it to the next cross walk.

I congratulated him.

‘You look like my niece. The same complexion and everything.

‘Where are you from?”

‘Jamacia. Queens.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘My family lives out there. We travel back and forth to the south.’

‘Where?’

‘The Carolina’s -North and South, Georgia, Alabama.  When he was done, the light changed.

‘You think you can make it across the street? I wouldn’t want you to get tired in the street.

I know. I know. You go ahead. You a youngin.

So, I crossed and waited. When I turned around, he was cursing out a young boy on a bike who had cut him off while he was crossing. He put the casket down and took a break. When he caught up with me, he asked me if I heard what he said to the boy. When I told him I did, he apologized. Then we kept walking. We finally made it to the block of the burial. We had a couple of steps to go. I was so proud of him I clapped my hands and he couldn’t help smiling but at the same time told ‘Don’t yay me! Don’t yay me!’

We need to go past the dumpsters.

No, it’s not that far, we need to just go past the first bus stop.

Okay.’

He sat down on the cooler and took another break. I ain’t no spring chicken! You a youngin! I need to rest. I walked to the man’s property and told him about Mr. Jerry and how close he was. He got a wheelbarrow and rolled it out to meet him. He went a little faster when he saw Mr. Jerry lugging the heavy load down the road.

The gentlemen shook hands and immediately one could tell Mr. Jerry was under the influence. Mr. Jerry was now pushing a wheel barrow. Which he agreed was easier but he was very cross. I smiled and kept the air cool but then it all changed when we met the first bus stop and I was indeed wrong. We needed to go past the dumpsters.

He put the barrow down to say how I lied to him about the dumpsters and in the midst of that, the owner of the land asked him if he wanted to throw his dog in the dumpster which really ticked him off.

No!! I want to bury it! That’s why I came all the way here. This is dead weight. Yes, I have a wheel barrow but now I have to do some shoveling! And, I said it was past the dumpsters! I  am old. I am 57 years old! Did you read my hat?! It’s true!! I am old-school. What? You want to dig? You want to push?!

No one said anything and the gentleman walked away. I told Mr. Jerry how sorry I was. I thought he was speaking about the other dumpsters on the other side of the property. I asked him if he’ll forgive me and he told me I was just being religious and picked up the wheel barrow again. I walked ahead of him and waited.

He got ticked off once again when he saw a lady holding her phone to her face. He assumed she was recording him and after she said no, he then cursed her out, just in case she was.

He’s not okay. The owner said to me.

Yeah, he was drinking. I agreed. But didn’t know if that was a reason not to help someone.

Finally, he reached the property and the owner now was a bit worried. Mr. Jerry put his barrow down again and said he was scooping out the land. The owner stood by his word and did not turn him away even though his behavior got aggressive. He was told of the spot in which to bury Shannon.

This time I was my turn to speak.

Well, I think my job here is done. I am glad you two met and the the men agreed I could leave.