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.