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SUMMARY: Your husband, Johnny has always wanted a dog to call his own. Fate brings you to a box on the side of the road...
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The city was packed at this time of the day, it was peak hour after all. The cars are tangled and backed up streets beyond the horizon. The sky is darkened with the on sweep of clogged sidewalks, and the cold chill of winter approaching.
Your husband, Johnny was on the phone with you, as you yammered on about the next quarter plans at the company you worked for. He, of course being the supportive husband he is, listened and helped you debrief.
As you spoke, you could only shove your way through the shoulder to shoulder crowd so fast. Each step meant pain, with a planner clutched in one hand and your mobile in the other. You're a busy woman, working at the highest fashion company in the entire country. That meant something. You had to dress the part, forget about logic. Your feet ached everyday of the week from those designer heeled boots they made you wear, and your shoulders weighed down heavily with that large mink coat.
You were in a rush to get home tonight. More meetings to schedule, more work to do. The day didn't end until midnight most nights. It was the business, the city never slept. Johnny was somewhere around midtown, he worked at an advertisement firm.
In a split second decision, you crossed the busy road without another thought, the foot traffic was lesser over that side.
"Look I've got back to back meetings tomorrow and I've got to-"
Tires from a taxi screeched to a halt right next to you.
"Jesus!" you sharply breathed, almost getting hit by an obnoxious driver who was going to fast in the lane to begin with. Never mind you were the one who crossed without a thought.
The man inside stuck his head out of the window, and started to hurl abuse at you. Johnny asked if you were alright over the phone, and what was going on, but you ignore him to raise a shaky hand at the taxi driver.
"What was that!?" Johnny repeated, this time with more urgency, "Are you okay!?"
Midtown was always this feisty. You had grown accustomed to providing those taxi drivers with a trail of insults but as you were on the phone with your husband, you didn't want him to think you were asking for trouble.
You hit the sidewalk pavement with unease again, and almost stumbled into more pedestrians.
"Johnny, where are you!?" you snapped, frustrated and overwhelmed.
"Behind you." Johnny said calmly.
You turn swiftly to see your husband. He stood there in his business suit. Mid thirties, he still looked youthful. A weight lifted from your shoulders whenever he is around. He has this light that radiates and makes everything seem like it'll be okay.
You flip your phone closed, with a sigh of relief.
"Busy day?" he asked.
"You have no idea."
As you both made your way through the busyness, your checking out your planner, almost walking into other people, Johnny is vigilant and sweeps you out of the way of oncoming foot traffic. You realise you would be no where without him.
You flick through the pages, "Keith and Evelyn have invited us to-"
You feel his hand leave your waist, and find yourself alone half way up the footpath. You backtrack to where your husband is, and see his attention is caught by something across the road.
It's a sleezy man with sweat stains underneath his armpits, on the cusp of winter. You found it strange that he would be selling a litter of puppies in a cardboard box in the middle of the city, so you try to snap your fingers, trying to get Johnny's attention back on you again, but he's stuck on this box.
You remembered the photo he shows you sometimes, of him on a dock with this white dog, he loved that dog. It was his bosses dog from years ago. He had always wanted one of his own, but through the chaos of your careers, and life, the years flew away from you.
You follow him over to the street corner, crowded around by a bunch of doting little kids and curious adults. The box was wrinkled and old, with a large litter of puppies inside. Each one was patted by children's tough hands, all but one in the corner of the box. A scruffy off white, cream coloured pup cowered. Each time the puppy tried, it couldn't grasp the attention of any of the kids and returned to the damp corner.
Johnny was drawn to that one especially, "What about him?" he asked you. You watched as he held out his hand, and the puppy sniffed it, then backed away again.
"It's okay..." he reassured, "...I won't hurt you, little guy."
The afraid pup seemed to respond to Johnny's warm voice, and allowed him to peacefully pat his fur, then slowly nudged his small head into his hand, like he was accepting him as a source of safety.
The owner turned to see us with the dog, and he relished. His demeanor changed when he saw our expensive attire, and realised we had good jobs. And what once was fifty dollars became three hundred dollars for us.
"That's ridiculous!" you gritted your teeth, "You said fifty for that woman over there!"
"Three hundred or no dog, lady. I got a bunch of other customers here!" he jeered back, in a thick Brooklyn accent.
Johnny held the puppy up. He was so scruffy, and looked like he needed a real good bath. But Johnny was so in love with him, so you didn't want to risk the man taking that from him.
"Fine!" you gave in, glaring at the man, with the same disgust you would at an insect. He seemed delighted and awfully smug when you slipped the cash from your purse and handed it over to him.
You become increasing irritated as he began to count the notes out into his hand, like you're the one who would cheat him. He waves you off in the end, and you're now the proud owners of a puppy dog.
On the stroll back to our apartment, Johnny tucked the small pup into his coat for warmth. It seriously melted your heart to see him like this, and made you wonder more and more, how he would be if you decided to have kids someday...
"So, what's his name?" you asked, praying that he wouldn't call it some geeky comic book name.
Your husband thought for a moment, and then, like a lightening bolt had struck, the idea hit him, "Beau."
It was the same name of the dog that he had always wanted to call his own.
