Federico took the same walking path to work every day and he took the same route back every night. It saved him time and the time that it saved him meant that he was able to maximize the time he spent at his desk, without taking too much time away from his busy social life. On Mondays he would go home and watch TV. On Tuesdays he would go home and fold laundry and watch TV. Wednesday and Thursdays were used to watch TV. Friday — TV… Saturday — laundry and TV and Sunday was all about TV.
Realistically — the route he took and the attitude he had was all about control. Controlling his environment and his social interaction and controlling his anxiety about doing things that made him nervous or squeamish. It was a highly effective plan because for the past seven years of his working career he hadn’t had any undue social interaction with anyone who would let him down or frustrate him.
Tonight he took the same route and had the same intention: to be left alone and to be made to feel safe. That wasn’t how it worked. Instead he walked down the same trusted streets and met a funny interloper: an orphan puppy. The little doggy kept himself out of sight until Federico walked past and then BAM! He charged out and started to snap at his heels! He knew that the dog was going to be a distraction and his first instinct was to ignore it… don’t get involved — you don’t need the stress…
Federico did something totally out of character — he picked the dog up and started to talk to it. When he grabbed the little fellow to carry him he could feel a lump on his belly. He turned the dog over to reveal a heart-shaped freckle on his underside. It was no more than a centimeter across — but it was quite raised and felt like a prominent feature. He brushed the fur aside and saw that the freckle went straight below the hairline and down to the puppy’s skin… could this be love at first sight?
Hardly.
Federico did what his instincts told him to do; he went into the cafe next to where he found the puppy and asked if it belonged to anyone inside. No one inside knew the dog or the owner of the dog. A big bearded man in the kitchen doorway looked up from a pot, looked at the dog, and went back to stirring. The lady behind the bar suggested he walk a few blocks west of the main road to the animal clinic and bring the dog for a check-up and then keep him.
Federico hated everything about that plan. He hated the idea of going somewhere off the beaten path. He hated the idea of going out of pocket to help an animal. And he REALLY hated the idea of a companion with a heart-shaped freckle on his abdomen. (Federico was what you would call “an asshole.”) Against his better judgment he did take the dog to the clinic. He spent exactly five minutes waiting for someone to attend to the dog, explained that he found the puppy wandering the streets and asked if they could shelter the dog. Then he left.
*
He spent the entirety of the next day without a single thought of the sweet little puppy or his heart-shaped freckle. The entire day, until that night, as he walked past the cafe, he immediately thought about the dog. He felt a deep pang in the pit of his stomach and it acted like a black hole, dragging his heart into it.
“Enough of that!” He gathered his thoughts and walked home.
The next day was more or less the same — all day without a single thought of the puppy and then total recall as he walked past the spot where he first laid eyes on the tender doggy. Same as the previous night — he pushed off any further thoughts of the dog and walked home…
Same for the next night and the night after that and the night after that.
Come Saturday morning he started to feel the pangs of guilt — but this time it was at home and without the outside stimulus of walking past the cafe. The pain started on its own and wouldn’t ebb or recede — it just grew and grew and grew. After a few hours of thinking about the dog, Federico resolved himself to go to the animal clinic and get the dog. He would bring the dog with the heart-shaped freckle to his home and make him his friend.
He walked briskly to the animal clinic. As he stood outside he found himself looking at all of the kennels, trying to find the dog… he couldn’t spot him. He walked in and talked to the girl; she told Federico that the afternoon before a man had come in and adopted the dog and two others. He was a jolly, fat, bearded man. The image of the fat, happy man gave Federico the impression that the dog had a turn of GOOD luck… he’d be loved and cared for, and with the other dogs alongside him, the puppy wouldn’t ever fear being lonely. Federico trusted that he had actually done something GOOD for the puppy.
*
After several nights of walking past the cafe and looking for the dog — and knowing that he wouldn’t be there, Federico decided that his previous seven years were a waste. He needed to branch out and make friends… perhaps if he took on the disposition of the innocent stray puppy, someone would be kind to him and make a home where he too would be loved and entertained. He decided to start right there and then by going into the cafe, for only the second time.
He went to the counter and ordered the dinner special off the board and sat down at a table by the window to wait for his supper and to contemplate his new life and his new sense of openness. Within a matter of minutes a plate of hot stew was served up on a tray, accompanied by a piece of freshly baked bread and a pat of butter, a knife, fork and spoon, all wrapped up in a napkin and a small glass of tap water.
Federico smelled the stew and found it very much to his liking. He began to eat, and his gaze drifted out the window into the street… the sounds of the people chatting in the cafe blended into the sounds of the cars outside. Then he heard a sound — a dog barking! He looked outside to see if it could possibly be his puppy, coming back to find him… maybe the DOG would in fact be the one to save him from the banality of a solitary existence.
Hardly.
The dog he heard was on a leash and was playing a game with his owner. The delight of the game made the dog’s inner dialogue impossible to keep inside. Federico felt like a fool for a moment… a daydreaming, puppy-love fool. He snapped back to the present and to his meal. He sifted through the stew with his fork, piecing together a mouthful of carrot and meat and the thick, brown sauce. He put it in his mouth. There was a problem. A piece of gristle perhaps… he should take it out and dispose of it on his plate, otherwise he’d choke.
Hardly!
The piece of gristle he felt in his mouth turned out to be a small cube of meat… with a heart-shaped freckle on it, about one centimeter across.