Drifters In Love

I was stopped at a red light across the road from these wanderers, and this was the best shot I could get. The dog was rolling onto its back and sunning its belly playfully as the man did his stuff. The thought it brought on was that I have known or at least met many wandering dog lovers like this, and they all take very good care of their dogs.

I knew a guy named Butch who was a crusty punk. He drank a lot and he had large tattoos on his face. He was a big fellow, a nice fellow who I knew only a little. Once he was arrested under a bridge, but not for doing anything in particular. He was held for something like eight months because there had been a sensational murder and the killer had facial tattoos. Finally a social worker interviewed the scary-looking ne'er-do-well and her favorable report won his release. During his incarceration I wrote him a short letter.

Then Butch rang my doorbell! He was fresh out of prison and stopped by to thank me for the solidarity. He had been thinking about his life, feeling clean, and thinking clearly.

Butch was not asking anyone to loan him cash or for a place to stay. He had been asking everyone he could find this one question: Do you know how I can find my dog? Someone had told him that a young woman he knew (also a wanderer) was looking after the beloved hound, and she was thought to be heading to Upstate New York where her parents lived.

I never saw or heard any report of Butch again. It's been about twenty years.