COMPANION

The early morning sunshine made the dew shimmer on the blades of grass. Unfortunately, that beautiful sight meant that my pillow was wet too. I sat up, unzipping my sleeping bag to let myself out into the world. Coup whimpered and pressed herself against my legs.

“I know, girly girl. I know.” I said, scratching behind the massive pitbull’s fawn brown ears, “I’ll get you something to eat first thing.” 

I set about the task of cleaning up my place, rolling first the sleeping bag into a tight tube, then wrapping it in the tarp that had separated it from the wet ground.   I put this unshapely bundle into my shopping cart and began dragging it along the dirt path, Coup trotting loyally at my heel. We had been spending the last few nights sleeping on a forgotten dirt trail behind the little league baseball diamonds. The field backed up to a patch of woods, and there were old dirt trails that cut through them here and there. They made a great place to sleep because there was shelter, we were out of sight of any residence, and I think most of the police had forgotten that those trails existed long ago. Coup and I had our own Sherwood Forrest. We made sure not to let on to anybody where we slept. We didn’t want this spot ruined for us. We were quiet, but you let a few others in on our sanctuary and they’d start to party, leave trash, make noise; they’d be sure to attract a lot of unwanted attention. So Coup and I guarded our secret well. I looked at my watch as we came off the trail and into the parking lot of the little league. It was six o’clock in the morning. I felt my blood begging me for the first cigarette of the day, but I couldn’t indulge yet. I had bought a pack yesterday, so I still had plenty, but I didn’t want to be seen and recognized as ‘one of the homeless’ anywhere near my beloved sanctuary behind the ball diamonds.

The first order of business for the day was to get my hands on some dog food. I had twelve dollars, but it was a Friday. That meant I could get a decent amount from the morning traffic rush, evening traffic rush, then by standing around the restaurants while people went in and out. Friday is payday for everyone, whether or not you have a solid job. I bought one can of wet dog food and a loaf of cheap bread from a grocery store that hadn’t kicked me out yet. Then I walked down to The Corner. The Corner was my best panhandling spot. There was a long stop light there, which means the folks in their cars had a long time to stare at me and Coup with our sign out there on the street and start to feel bad for us. This was the best spot to get money. The trick was to get there before anyone else. The Corner was at a busy intersection. Running north-south the street went from the ghetto towards the freeway. No money from those cars. East-west, however, led from the affluent suburbs into the midtown and downtown. I’d myself up there, so that the people coming from the suburbs to their downtown jobs could see me in the morning, then on the other side of the intersection in the evening for when they returned home. The issue was that, because it was close to downtown, there were more and more people learning about how profitable The Corner was. Hard people. Downtown was where the druggies and the tweakers mostly lived. When the average person thinks about “the homeless”, they picture an older man with a huge beard and wild eyes, wandering around wrapped in blanket, sleeping under bridges and yelling at people who weren’t there. Those people exist. They live downtown. 

There are more of us than the crazies, though.  There was me. Me and Coup. 

After high school and in a minimum wage job I had found my way into the drugs. Everybody did. A yearlong fling with the white had left me down and out, laying on the sidewalk waiting for death. It never came, which was annoying. Then I found Coup. He was thin and scarred, digging through the trash for anything to eat. He needed me. Finding food for him, finding money to get food for him, gave me something to do. Gave me something to live for, I guess. I couldn’t afford to feed both my addiction and my new friend, and the addiction didn’t chase people away while I was asleep. I kicked the habit and took care of Coup, and he stayed and took care of me too. It’s been five years since I touched any kind of intoxicant. 

I was still on the street, though. Once you’re out there it’s real hard to find a job, find a place to live, find anything but a little bit nicer place to sleep outside. And, at the end of the day, I’m not sure I want all that. I live off the fat of the land, mostly the fat white collars that looked out their Mercedes windows and felt bad. Let them pay for Coup’s food, and mine too. I stayed quiet and didn’t live with the crazies. I didn’t cause trouble for anyone. 

Getting to The Corner early was important. The downtown druggies woke up later than I did, but when they were awake they were scouting for profitable places to crash. The Corner was ideal. The unspoken law among us was you didn’t squat where someone was begging unless they invited you. We all know that. Breaking that law is to provoke violence. I would get to the corner by eight and usually that was early enough to stake my claim for the day. On the eastern side of the intersection and on the north side of the east headed road there was a patch of grass and trees that dipped down into a sort of valley. That served as my base camp, though it wasn’t a great place to sleep. The crazies had found it and were usually there in the small hours of the morning. They left a chaotic mess everywhere they stayed, leaving plastic cups, cigarette butts, smashed bottles and broken crack pipes in their wake. Their trail pooled in that little valley and meandered up the hill and out in front of the gas station that stood on the corner. My first order of business was to clean up that area as best I could. This was a win-win situation. The employees of the gas station knew me and Coup, and we got along. They saw that I cleaned the mess left by the crazies and that I didn’t leave a mess myself. They would give me water for free sometimes and didn’t call the police when I stayed out in front of their property. 

On this particular Friday I had company, even though I had gotten to The Corner by seven-thirty. He was young, but not so young as me. Maybe thirty. His head was shaved and he wore no shirt. He had a rolling suitcase that he kept his stuff in and carried a walking stick. Fastened on to the walking stick about three quarters of the way up was a railroad spike. I had seen these before; free and accessible weapons for those who dared walk the tracks. He looked hard. I eyed him suspiciously. He was sitting against a tree down in the grassy valley. He looked up at me and I saw his eyes full of hate. Years of senseless beatings and needle prick scars poured out of those light blue eyes and flooded my tranquil morning. This was someone not to be messed with. Still, it was Friday. It was payday. I couldn’t afford not to be on The Corner today. 

“Hello!” I called out to him. He lifted his hand and waved. I held Coup by the rope collar, but that was more for show than anything. Coup had been fed and taken care of since I found her, her muscles were lean and taut. If she had wanted she could have charged the shirtless man and I would have been dragged along behind like a windsock on a speedboat. Coup’s hair bristled, but she remained by my side. 

“I’ve been chilling at this corner for a good minute. Cool if I go hold my sign, since you’re hanging out down there?” I ventured. I could feel my palms sweating.

“I just slept here.” The man grunted, “I don’t give a fuck what you do.” 

I nodded and turned. I didn’t like having him behind my back, but what could you do? I went to my corner and got my sign out of the shopping cart. Coup sat down obediently at my side. Coup was a moneymaker too. A dog living on the streets brings more sympathy than a beggar. 

The sun began to rise in earnest. It looked to be a hot day. A few weeks ago I had acquired an umbrella. It was a little ragged, but I had patched it with duct tape. It didn’t keep water off very well, but it provided good shade. I put on a baseball cap for myself and pulled out the umbrella. I opened in and fastened the handle to my cart so that the dark blob of shade covered most of Coup’s muscular body. She lay down, panting. 

The proved a good take. At various points when traffic was slow I went and sat down on the grass at the top of the valley. I ate a piece of the bread I had bought this morning and took sips from the plastic water bottle some had given me from one of the cars. I glanced down into the valley. The shirtless guy was still there, though he had passed out. There was a large, sixty-four ounce gas station soda cup by his side, but I guess that it wasn’t soda. It rarely was. I remembered those days and thought about the people I still knew who would starve before they went a day without the booze. I knew people whose day started with a beer. I knew people whose hands shook until they’d had at least three shots of hard liquor. 

Evening came and the guy was still down there. He had been there all day, not begging or looking for food. Just drinking from that cup and passing out. One time he smoked a cheap cigar, but mostly he sat and stared at the trees. There were plenty of people like that; people so desperate for a place where they no longer had to move that they would give up on all attempts of self preservation. The night was fine, but I felt tired. I had roughly eighty dollars in my pocket from handouts that day. It was good, enough to get me food and water for me and Coup for a while, a pack of cigarettes to keep me going, and a new roll of duct tape, which I needed. There was no need to go hit up the restaurants tonight. I began pulling my cart and called for Coup to heel. She came, just as she always did, but her fur was bristling again. 

“I know that guy’s creepy, girly girl. C’mon.” We made our way north first. The ball diamond was in the eastern suburbs, but walking there put you a risk of getting picked up by the sheriff. Ever since they had built the new arena downtown there had been a kind of mass migration of homeless away from it and into the neighboring suburbs. The city police didn’t want the renovated face of the city, that being the arena, to be pocked with the dirty and bedraggled homeless, so they were cracking down. The homeless fled to the suburbs, where the nervous families called the county sheriff, so the sheriff was cracking down too. Everyone was cracking down. Walking with a shopping cart and a pitbull through the suburbs you might as well announce your social position through a megaphone. It was better to walk north first, into the ghetto. The police had bigger fish to fry there. 

Once I had gotten a few blocks north, I cut across east. I would make a kind of horseshoe path to the ball diamonds, only walking through the suburbs after dark. A few times Coup turned and growled, but I couldn’t see anyone behind us. Well, she had been abused after all. We were all paranoid sometimes. 

I guess he had been following us. When I was walking down one of the dirt paths to my sleeping places I heard the cracking of twigs and leaves behind us. I turned and there he was. He wavered as he stood, supporting himself with the walking stick. 

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. Coup gave a low growl. The shirtless man didn’t answer my question, but looked around.

“This is a nice spot.” he said, “good and quiet.” I didn’t say anything. He took another couple of steps. “How much did you get today?” he asked.

“None of your business.” I snapped. He was in my spot now. I had right of way. 

“What do you say we share it, huh? Brother?” a false smile took over his hardened face.

“We’re not brothers. I don’t even know your name.” I said. The false smile fell away into unfeeling steel. 

“We were made brothers by the streets. We don’t got nowhere to go; we may as well stick together.” 

“I earned this money. I’m keeping it.” I said. 

“You fucking asshole!” the man yelled, so loudly that I was sure the neighboring houses heard. “You’re selfish! You live outside just like the rest of us and you think you’re better than me?” I was silent. Coup’s growl grew louder. 

“Well, fuck you then! You’re not better than me. I’m taking that money! You’ve eaten today. You don’t need it. I need that money. I’ll die without it!” he took a step towards me and lifted his walking stick. Even in the darkness I saw the point of that railroad spike fixed near the top. Through the trees I vaguely saw lights coming on in the houses on the other side. The shirtless man took another step towards me. 

Coup lunged. She was terrifying when she was angry. Those powerful jaws could snap through bones like brittle leaves. The walking stick came down and the spike struck Coup squarely between the eyes. There was a small spray of blood and Coup gave a piteous yelp. I ran forward and caught the backswing of the walking stick in the chin. Not the spike, thank god, but just the butt end of the stick hurt plenty. I reeled back, trying to keep an eye both on the shirtless man and the wounded state of Coup. She was lying down on her side, breathing but not moving. I rushed the shirtless man again. He was drunk and off balance. I grabbed his stick and gave a push. He stumbled, tripped and fell. Then I was on him. I threw his stick away into the brushes and gave him a good punch to the eye. He managed to get out from under me and whacked me on the back of the head with his fist. I collapsed, sick and dizzy. I heard him rummaging about in the darkness for his stick. I struggled to my feet and charged him again. This time I knocked his head against a tree and he was out. I found my way to Coup, who was awake. She got to her feet and whimpered. 

“I’m sorry, girly girl. I’m sorry.” I was sobbing, “I’m so sorry.” 

I’m not sure what time the sheriff came. There had been calls from the houses reporting a disturbance. It had taken the deputies a while of walking through the trees with flashlights before they found the unconscious man shirtless and a young man sobbing and clinging to a wounded dog. The deputy shook his head as he slapped cuffs on me. I tried to explain that I had been attacked, but the deputy didn’t want to hear it. He shoved me into the back of the squad car. 

“What’s going to happen to Coup?” I asked through the steel mesh that separated the back from the front seats.

“That your dog?” the deputy asked.

“Yeah, she needs me. I need her. We’re partners, you see. If I’m in jail, who’s going to feed her?” 

“You’re not going to jail.” the deputy said coolly, “we know how it works. Jail is an improvement for you folks, not a punishment. We’ll let you off with a warning and a restraining order for that spot behind the ball diamond. Your dog’s going to the adoption center. The streets are no place for a dog. You can’t take good care of her. She deserves a family. She’ll be adopted out.” 

I sat there in the back seat bawling like a child. I couldn’t stop, even when the deputy pulled the car over and told me to get out. He drove away and there I was, empty handed on the street without my beloved girly girl. Coup was probably sitting in a cage somewhere with a hundred other pitbulls that parents wouldn’t let their kids adopt because they “weren’t family friendly.” Eventually some twenty three year old chick with a nose ring and tattoos would adopt her and take her home to a nice house where Coup would have nothing to do but lay around on the floor and grow fat with nobody to protect and nobody to protect them from.  

I wandered about for the rest of the night, not really sure where I was going. I found myself on the train tracks, walking west towards downtown. The sun was just starting to come up. On the ground in front of me something was sticking out of the gravel. The sunrise gave it a pinkish red tint. I stooped and picked up. It was a railroad spike. I stuffed it into my pocket and walked on, wondering if that shirtless man was going to sleep in that grassy valley again.