Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt. 8Brooklyn NY 112151

Sick as DogsI was sick. Bad enough. But life is never quite so crappy as when I’m sick and alone. I had towarm my own soup on the stove and boil my own water for tea, my floppy, duck-hunting hat jammed on my head because it marginally soothed me. And since there was no one else, now I hadto walk the dog.It was hot in the apartment, making it uncomfortable to bundle up. By the time I'd put on jeansover sweats over thermals, a sweater over a flannel over a T-shirt, a wool cap under my duck hat,wool socks, a scarf, and my pea coat, I was slimy with sweat. I would have liked to have turned off the radiators and let the place absorb heat from neighboring apartments; unfortunately all the oldwomen living above and below me and all along the floor had the same idea. Maybe all the oldwomen in the building. I had the feeling that my radiators were the only ones on, the steam fromthe massive boiler forced through only my pipes.It was late winter, old street sand crusting the sidewalk. The wind on my sweaty face hurt. Iwrapped my scarf around my mouth and nose and tucked it under my hat.Georgia didn't seem to care much—or even have noticed much—that I was sick. She pulled inlittle arcs at the farthest distance her leash allowed, and I decided to take her to the dog run even

Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt. 8Brooklyn NY 112152

though I hate its forced sociability. I didn't have the energy to walk her tired and if I didn't wear herout she'd annoy me all day.But there were no other dogs when I got there. I checked the time: 9:30. Must be after thepre-work walks but before the professional dog-walker walks.I unhooked Georgia's leash and she took off, trying to sniff every dusty yard of the place.People like to imagine their dogs are just curious about smells, but I can’t put out of my mind thatdogs mainly scent-mark for territorial reasons. It makes me feel a little bad about coming back tothe city, where Georgia can’t possibly mark out her range. Any mark she tries to make is coveredthe next day by the urine of twenty other dogs. In her mind the dog run must tell of anoverwhelming pack milling in a tiny cage, without sense or self-respect.Finally she picked a spot, squatted and began to strain. I sat down on a bench and blew mynose. I should have brought tea. On top of everything else I was getting a headache from missingmy morning caffeine.When Georgia was finished I hauled myself to my feet, bagged her shit and threw it out.An old man came in with a dog about half Georgia's size, some kind of terrier, fat. It waddledin straight lines, turning only when it had to, and Georgia followed close, her nose glued to its rear.The man sat next to me. He had that sour look an old man gets when his nose grows too big and theloose skin of his jowls draws his mouth into a permanent frown."Usually have the place to ourselves this hour," he said. "That's Ollie. I'm Leo.""Ben," I said. I wasn't introducing my dog."You sick today, Ben?" Leo said.

Joshua Malbin307 12

St. Apt. 8Brooklyn NY 112153

I nodded."You shouldn't be out here in the cold."I pointed to Georgia."You can't get your wife to do it? Or a roommate?""No."Leo didn’t say anything for a minute. Together we watched our dogs circulate like it wasinteresting. Then he pressed his hands into his thighs and stood, grunting like an old man who’smade a decision. "Let's go," he said.I looked up at him. "What?""You come to my place, I'll fix you something," Leo said.Sometimes the lonely old women in my building try to befriend me, so I wasn't unused to suchinvitations. Sometimes I’m even friendly back. But the old women are my neighbors, and the typeof people who assume I’m a nice boy since the co-op board approved me. In New York completestrangers don’t just invite you home from the dog park, no matter their age.I got up myself, shook my head, took a dog treat from my pocket, and called Georgia's name."I just want to go back to bed," I said. Georgia came for the treat and I leashed her. "Thanksanyway."Leo caught me at the first crosswalk. He was a little out of breath. "I'll bring you somethinglater," he said. "What building you in?"I didn't want him in the apartment. "No thanks," I said.