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The semester was over, and finals were graded. Summer vacation in Manhattan would now begin, but it didn't matter for Thomas. His journey into higher education was destroyed---at least in that town. Lucky him, he was the recipient of much of his late father's cashed-out 401k and a trust fund started when he was just a baby. His apartment rent was no problem for now, although it was no longer justifiable. His father, perhaps living vicariously through him, had high hopes for his son's future. And although he sometimes resented his father's familial delusions of grandeur, he didn't mind so much the opportunities afforded him.
He should be upset, he thought. But he wasn't. Expelled from NYU, and his girlfriend having moved out, ordinarily he'd feel like a boat without a rudder at this stage. Perhaps he could transfer his credits elsewhere. But he loved The City, and continuing his degree at another college could force him to leave. This, he did not want. New York was a land of adventure so completely different from his mid-Western small town. A great man once said that "The modern city is ugly not because it is a city, but because it is not enough of a city, because it is a jungle, because it is confused and anarchic, and surging with selfish and materialistic energies." And it was a jungle that he wanted. Layer upon layer of history was there. Frontier spirit pressed underneath 19th Century poverty, sandwiched underneath war, plastered over with modern opulence--all of it held together by the mortar of money, sex, religion, murder, superstition, and every other novelty of the human spirit. But it was this kind of thinking--this kind of naïve, adventurous wonder--that got him expelled in the first place.
Whatever his troubles, sad he was not. Entirely preoccupied, he came back tot he apartment with an entire pizza, enough for him and one other. He threw his keys in the bowl next to the door and announced his return: "Okay, I've got the meat lover's this time. I think this one should satisfy your cravings. You still here?"
The pitter patter of canine nails on the hardwood floor trailed their way to him from another room. The German Shepherd stopped in the doorway and bobbed his head up and down, his tail wagging.
"I'm not hungry for this," said Thomas. "Honestly, I could probably only eat a fourth of this. You said you wanted half?"
The dog bobbed his head up and down again, his mouth closed and bearing no teeth.
"And you said you'd have a new statement? Is it ready?"
Again, the dog "nodded." Thomas took a few slices out and put them on a plate. He set the box of pizza on the floor, and the German Shepherd moved in and started eating on the pizza.
He went to the back of the apartment. On the floor was arranged a computer, a keyboard, and a mouse. A little tool with a band on it wide enough for the dog's paw lay next to the keyboard. The printer, also situated on the floor, had a page printed out. He took the paper and began to read as he reached for a slice of pizza:
"The landlord came today. At the door, he asked out loud if you were home. I think he suspects you have a dog in your apartment. I didn't bark or anything. Thank you for the pizza. I will repay you when I'm back to normal. Just don't ever get me dog food again, please."
Amused by that last sentence, Thomas' brow lifted, and he raised his pizza slice to the dog in salute. "You're welcome, Aaron. It's no problem. Sorry about yesterday's misunderstanding. I was in a hurry." He eased into a chair next to his little kitchen table, stared out the window to the building across the street, and took another bite. "I need to get you out. You can't just stay cooped up in my apartment forever--even if you're housetrained and using the toilet. You need some sunshine. We've got to break this cycle. We've got to get out and breathe while we wait to make the next move. So I was thinking. What do you say I go get a collar and a leash, and we go all-out and official, and I 'take you for a walk' tomorrow? Fresh air can only help."
The dog chewed up the final morsels of his latest bite, gulping them down quietly. He paused, looked at the front door, but returned his deliberate gaze to Thomas, not opening his mouth once.
"Look," said Thomas, holding his hands out as if to plead with the dog, "I know it probably makes you uncomfortable. But we have to at least pretend you're a regular dog if we go out in public. It's the only way we can pull off leaving this apartment."
After a moment of consideration, Aaron "nodded" his head again, agreeing with the plan. Tomorrow they would go out.
That night, they abided by their stipulated sleeping arrangement. Thomas slept in his bed, while Aaron took the couch. But it was a sleepless night for him. Thomas went out earlier and picked up the leash and collar. But going back out into the wide world was a frightening prospect. He lay there, his head resting atop his crossed over arms, staring out to the balcony, his German Shepherd eyes filled with worry.
Then, all of a sudden, a man was there on the balcony. It was as though he blinked into existence. Where did he come from? Aaron couldn't figure it out. The figure appeared human at first, though he also looked somehow different from a normal man. He was dressed in a formal dark suit, and when Aaron spied him, the stranger grinned back shortly before he blinked out of existence again.
Aaron raised his head. He even growled a bit, though he stopped himself from barking. But once the stranger was gone, he hurried over to the wall switch, turned on the lights, and then ran over to the computer. With difficulty, the dog pushed his right paw through the loop of the stick tool, and he used it to turn on the computer. As he was pulling up the notepad with great clumsiness and difficulty, Thomas awoke to see his roommate preparing to "talk" to him again with a new note. An hour later, after the dog had slowly typed letter after letter using the special tool Thomas had made for him, the printer had a full message in its tray:
"A strange man appeared on the balcony and disappeared again. But he was not a man. He was a creature trying to look like a man. We have the attention of other forces at work. I'm not sure where this one is from, though."
After reading the message, Thomas set the paper down and dated it in pen. He'd add it to the stack of other notes typed out for him by Aaron. He made sure the door and windows were locked. He kept the stove and bathroom lights on for the rest of the night, and eventually his alertness wore off, and he fell asleep again. This time, though, he allowed Aaron to sleep in the bed next to him. He was still just a dog, after all.
