Lucky, the Dog with No Name

It was my idea to call the hunched dog Lucky. The man holding its leash, wearing a cotton embroidered coat with an upside down, saucer-shaped hat held tightly at his chin, looked puzzled. Two golden lab mixes circled his feet off leash. As Hamilton and I approached them walking through the Seaport I thought it curious that he had two dogs off leash but the black dog was held tight and muzzled. On a warm night I wasn't surprised to see another dog walker.

He projected confidence and comfort with his dogs. Given his outfit I thought he came from Chinatown on the other side of the Brooklyn Bridge. He seemed over dressed for the heat. But maybe there was something to dressing warm for warm weather. I was dressed in a tee shirt, shorts and sandals and was sweating profusely after a half hour walk. The man looked impeccable if curiously dressed. Hamilton, showing solidarity, extended his tongue in a sympathetic gesture.

He is a social dog so I knew he wanted to make friends with the new dogs. As we came closer the man warned me off. He said the black dog could not be trusted. He was just becoming comfortable with the two lab mixes who seemed protective. The black dog continued to pull back from us, curling lower as if to will himself smaller. The man told us his story.

He was kept outside tied to a pole with two bowls which were infrequently filled with water and food. What happened in inclement weather the man did not know. Finally someone called the Humane Society. The dog was difficult to approach but he was rescued and the man agreed to take him knowing he would be a difficult dog. He had had success before with troubled dogs and was taken by the challenge the dog's circumstances presented. As he spoke the two off leash dogs continued to stand by his side shielding the black dog from Hamilton and me.

It was then I asked for the dog's name. The man said he had no name. He said there were other priorities for the dog, and anyway, what name could you give him? That's when I blithely said,
" You could call him Lucky."

"You could call him Lucky," the man repeated. He called his dogs to him and walked away with the black dog trailing behind. I wanted to say something but was dumbstruck by my facetiousness.

Hamilton and I often walk in the Seaport, particularly in warm weather. We have never seen the man or his dogs again. Maybe he thought it better not to walk on the other side of the bridge where a dog could be called Lucky just because someone treated it with kindness and decency.

Arcadia

In the best of all possible worlds my dog, Hamilton, would run through grass so tall only his tail would show. He'd roll in clover and stand on hills barking at the sun. But the world we live in is the one we are trying to make the best of. So Hamilton goes to doggie-day care most days of the week. There he can play with other dogs and use up his energy so my wife and I can reserve ours.

Issac, the dog driver who drove Hamilton to his puppy training classes and who Hamilton adores, recommended Paws in Chelsea to us. He said they had an impeccable reputation for being dog centric. No cages, sensitivity to dog temperaments and careful screening of clients. They were even selected the best dog care facility in New York by New York magazine in its Best of New York feature in 2007.

Hamilton has been going to Paws since we adopted him in 2004. He is segregated with the large, active dogs. Each dog at Paws is segregated with other dogs of the same size and temperament. each play room has a supply of toys, couches and beds for resting and a television for diversion. The dogs are taken out by the staff for individual play sessions and for walks. There is a dog groomer on the premises and they will also make arrangements for a veterinary visit and will administer medicine provided by owners. They do overnight and longer term boarding, not only for dogs but also for cats.

One of the most generous services they provide is that they take in strays and abandoned dogs and cats. The rescued animals receive medical attention and shots and their care is provided until they are adopted. Two of our cats were adopted from Paws in Chelsea as little kittens: Julio, a tabby, was found by a staff member roaming the streets of East Harlem, a scrawny three-month old feral cat; Pitch, black as coal , was found at only six weeks old abandoned on the subway.

Paws has taken in dogs and cats in all shapes and conditions, some missing limbs. The care and decency they show these unfortunate animals is duplicated in their care of their day care clients. Next to his own home, Paws is Hamilton's favorite place on this earth. He knows each route I take to drive us there, and as he gets closer, he gets progressively more excited so that by the time he is within a couple of blocks he is barking and howling in the car announcing his arrival.

Recently, the Paws team has expanded into Soho which is closer to our apartment in the Financial District. Hamilton has adjusted well, making new friends and embracing the staff, many of whom were originally at the Chelsea location.

One staff member mentioned that one of Hamilton's best friends at Chelsea, a pit bull mix, has had a difficult time finding another dog he feels comfortable playing with. After consultations with my wife and Hamilton we decided that Hamilton would split his time between the two locations.

Now, driving him back to Chelsea, head out the window, ears back in the wind, I can hear in his voice the cry of a loyal pack member to one of his own, " I'm a coming! I'm a coming !"