The Foreign Service Journal, September 2007

al. On a city street, either the dogs traveled in packs, or were pampered- looking, fat pets restrained on tight leashes by their owners. This dog was remarkable for three reasons — it was huge, it was skinny, and its cowed demeanor was pathetic beyond measure. A sense of alone- ness and misery flowed off the dog’s wet back in waves. It hesitantly made its way toward a woman who was briskly walking toward it. The woman paused, whether out of com- passion or fear, and then gave the animal a wide berth. The dog low- ered its head as she passed and sim- ply stood, shaking and wet. Alice stared at the poor thing. As people started to cross the street around her, she found herself joining the throng, walking straight toward the dog. She approached the beast, who had not moved since Alice first saw it, and made her way slowly around to its head. Aware that someone had actually stopped in front of it, the dog looked up meek- ly. Alice gazed helplessly at the dog; its brown coat was matted and thor- oughly drenched. It was so skinny, it seemed to weigh almost nothing; yet it was big — the dog came up to Alice’s waist. Soft, brown eyes held hers. And Alice knew there was no way she could turn away from this creature. But what was she to do? How to get it home? Of course, Alice had no leash. She couldn’t pull it down into the subway station. Nor could she imagine a taxi driver agreeing to take the mongrel. She eyed the dog, who continued to meet her eyes in a steadfast stare, head lowered. Would it even come with her? Sighing, Alice looked around, and decided to do something she had never done before — hail a gypsy cab. Hopefully, if she flashed enough money, the driver would agree to take her — and the drip- ping dog. Alice stuck her arm out in the face of the oncoming traffic as the cars hissed down the road. The cars whizzed by, some drivers looking curiously over at her. One car after another would slow, but then, seeing the large dog, quickly speed up again. Alice stood resolutely with her arm out. She was determined. She wondered what she was doing. She had never owned a dog. Pets were complicated and certain- ly not conducive to a lifestyle where one moved every few years. And most mornings, it was all that Alice could do to muster the ener- gy to get herself up and out the door to work. How would she care for a very large dog? Finally, a small Lada pulled up some distance past her. Alice gulped, looked at the dog, and ten- tatively grabbed its ruff. “Come on, come with me,” she said gently, wondering what the dog’s reaction to her hand on its neck would be. The dark, mud-spattered Lada that sputtered to a stop had a middle- aged man in front. He waited for Alice but, when he saw the wet mass of dog, shook his head and started to roll up his window. “Nyet,” he growled. “Please,” Alice said, thrusting two hundred-ruble notes into the car window. “Puzhalsta,” she pleaded. “Just a few blocks. Please, we need help.” The man eyed the money, the girl, and turned to look at the drip- ping dog. He turned back and stared straight ahead. Alice dug into her purse and drew out more ruble notes. “Please,” she tried once more. Sighing heavily and grumbling under his breath, the man curtly nodded to the back of the car, and Alice quickly opened the door, pushed the dog in, and climbed in after it. “You need to feed your dog more,” the man said to Alice, eye- ing them both in the back seat. “Too skinny.” “I know,” she replied simply, deciding not to go into an explana- tion that she had just found the dog on the street. Not knowing what diseases or vermin the dog was car- rying, the driver might wisely screech to a halt and demand that they both exit his car at once. “Dogs are good,” the man con- tinued. “Good friends.” Alice dubiously eyed her seat mate, who had lain down with a thump and a deep sigh beside her, grateful to be out of the cold driz- zle with a — hopefully — new friend. “Yes,” she replied. Once back at the embassy com- pound, Alice guided the dog past the guards to her apartment. Finally, they were up the steps, into the foyer and, with a huge sigh of relief, Alice shut the door behind her. The warmth of the apartment hit her — and her guest— in a wave. The dog stood panting slightly and weaving, looking at Alice for guidance, as if it were unsure what to do. Much of the 50 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / S E P T E M B E R 2 0 0 7 What a perfectly appropriate season to have half of one’s heart cut out, she thought.