Search for Scrappy D!

(Photos by Bald Punk – Scrappy D)

The door opened to our apartment. Seated on the couch, I craned my neck to see the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) in the doorway, shrieking and rambling louder than usual–looking like two parakeets whose cage was being rattled.

I searched by their feet for Scrappy D, who they had just taken on a walk. I anticipated the little guy darting into the room and springing into my arms.

My eyes popped wide open as I caught sight of his red leash and empty harness, dangling from the pizza guy’s wrist.

Before I was even on my feet, I was apoplectic. It was like someone took an air ratchet, attached it to my chest, and tightened the skin.

My first impulse was to toss those two guys down the four flights of stairs and into the street, yet I decided to put all my energy into finding Scrappy D.

He is one of the smartest dogs, probably of all time. Whenever I come home, I take special pleasure in his curious-gaze as I tell him about my day.

More than ever, I really needed to see him at that moment.

My lady friend(LF) was able to discern from num and nuts–though their huffs, puffs, and tears–that somehow Scrappy Doodles had slipped out of his harness and ran off.

Before I could say a word, my LF turned to muah and asked, “Did you put his harness on properly?”

I clenched my mouth shut.

–

We all split up, with the pizza delivery guy going to get our car that unfortunately was nine blocks away.

I headed straight to Scrappy D’s favorite store over on Broadway. It’s an Asian-owned grocery store. He goes nuts whenever we get near there. He loves the smell.

No one inside or outside the store had seen him.

I headed south on Broadway and approached some of the mofos on the street. Thankfully, I had just posted some great Xmas photos of Scrappy D. I popped the one below up on my phone to show people.

My stomach was roiling with nerves. Scrappy had never run away before. My hand shook as I held up my phone with the little guy’s photo. I love him so much and the thought of not finding him was overwhelming.

On Ninety-fifth Street, I headed west toward Amsterdam Ave. I wanted to shoot back up to St. John the Divine. Scrappy loves that place. His eyes always get real big whenever we’re in front.

My LF called me and said she was coming to pick me up with the car. I lost the phone signal before I could give her my exact location.

Catching my eye was a very thin man with a stove-pipe hat, wearing a well-worn suit. He sat on a stoop, cradling something in his right arm. It was Scrappy D!

I bellowed with relief, which was probably heard for a 10-block radius.

Scrappy hardly moved. By the way the man casually glanced up at me, I knew “we had a problem.”

“That’s my dog,” I said, trying to sound nice, though not liking the way he gripped my dog, or how sluggish the little guy seemed.

Scrappy D was downright torpid. A little voice in my head told me to “HIT THE GUY!!!”

The man had a long face that sloped outward to a weak chin. His hazel eyes were wide-set and had a crafty light, while his nose was thin and flat at the tip. It looked like his face had been socked a few times over the course of his life.

I reached in and snatched Scrappy D. I can’t express how relieved I was to feel his warm little body, or the joy of those big eyes staring up into mine. Though his languidness was frightening.

“What did you do to my dog?” I asked bitterly, while calling my LF on my cell. I had to pull the phone from my ear as she screamed with relief. Then I put the phone to Scrappy’s ear so my LF and num and nuts could talk to him

“Just cast a little spell over him,” the man said. “He’ll be fine in a moment or two.”

“What do you want, guy?” I said curtly, in ‘NYC speak.’ He had one last chance to be straight with me or I was going to slug him.

“What’s your name?” he said.

I straightened, and took a step back. “You want some money?” I asked. “Twenty bucks?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to meet you,” he said and angled his hat higher with his thumb.

“So you steal my f—ing dog?”

“It brought you to me,” he said and flashed a smile. His teeth were blackened and pointy. “So tell me your name?” He turned his head to our Camry that now sped up the block. Scrappy started to liven. “Or should I ask one of your friends?”

I told him my name, and he stood up, and wiped the back of his pants. Then he started on his way.

The man had struck me as aloof. I thought he must be a gopher or lackey.

All the same, I was happy he was going away. I wanted nothing more to do with him, and was looking forward to celebrating the return of Scrappy D.

Yet on the chance I’d get a response that would affirm my suspicions, and give some insight as to why he needed to know who I was, I asked, “Did someone send you here?”

The man chuckled and spoke with a lively ring, “Why,  P. T. Barnum himself!”

(P.T. Barnum – 1810 – 1891)

To be continued . . .

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Here are the posts in this series:  Episode Twenty-Four – December 2009/January 2010

Search for Scrappy D!

Barnum in Central Park

The Elephant and the Looking Glass

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS