Saturday, March 1, 2014

Dog Days of Winter

The scuffle outside the grooming shop between the cocker doodle and the poodle occurred a few weeks after the New Year. This year, the second dark moon signaling the beginning of the Spring Festival came earlier than usual. So in this particular January after the requisite cleaning, mass exodus on buses and trains, twenty-four hours of fireworks and feasting, the citizens of the large Northeastern Chinese city went back to work and back to routines without the benefit of a changed season.

The rejuvenation that everyone expected as a result of the long holiday had actually only happened in the giddiness of anticipation and preparation of the big event and was deflated and killed by its passing. What was left in the wake among the flattened tissue lanterns and piles of firework residue was a social landmine of animosity. Every person’s body ached to the marrow with shivering. Most spaces not filled with human bodies were unheated, and eyes were rubbed raw by the constant upkeep of charcoal fires and walking amongst the bus fumes, and no one could quite remember the exact shade of blue of a summer sky.

On this day, the sun hadn’t made its usual sepia appearance in 13 days. It was the kind of day where normally quiet bookish girls fogged up their glasses with their own vitriol if bumped into on a bus. Grandmothers, who just three weeks ago gave smiles and money to the young, beat each other senseless with rice bin shovels at the local RT Mart. And children content with on-line gaming for four months suddenly began convulsing for want of any sensation other than the overstuffed internet café chair.

Wedged between a make shift store selling Nike and Adidas shoes and a bakery selling cartoon cakes was the dog grooming shop. A year before it had been a shop selling salted duck products. And a year before that it had been a fruit and vegetable stall. But with the growing middle class came large super market chains like RT Mart and enough disposable income to buy Western fast food like KFC as well as accessories like brand name watches and pets. Prized possessions that are subjected to the wear and tear of walking two inches from the city’s pavement need regular maintenance. Needless to say, the grooming shop was more profitable in its first month than the little restaurant and produce stalls were in an entire year.

Usually the sounds of revolt coming from the bath-resistant hounds at the grooming shop weren’t audible over the car and bus horns of the busy street. The only passersby who noticed were dogs who seemed ready to burst from their leads to save the day or at the very least, investigate what the fuss was all about.  But today a small circle of on lookers were gathered outside the shop and in the center was a syncopated chorus of four, ranging from a high pitched human voice to a low baritone growl. The barking of the two recently coifed, lathered, and dyed canines followed their irate owners’ shouts like a bee-bop quartet.

A man in his 40s wearing the uniform of the newly rich: dark trousers, button down shirt, and fake Rolex watch could barely contain the wrath of his poodle and its flaming orange ears. Whether it was the genetic inferiority of the cockerdoodle or its obvious superior cuteness, no one would ever know. The owner of the fuzzy brown dog had dressed it much like herself—with layers of quilted fabrics better suited for covering windows than humans or animals. She was short and compact and unintimidated by the man in front of her. They yelled at one another, the primeval anger taking them back to accents and dialects unintelligible to the onlookers and one another. It was unclear what was wanted as no damage to the dogs or their recent pampering had occurred.

People stood around them in varying degrees of gaping. Retirees back from playing chess in the park seemed amused and philosophized to one another that the frivolity of the scene demonstrated the country’s emergence from its recent dark ages. Others, closer to the dog owners’ ages, chose sides and shouted encouragement, seeming to understand the inherent insults, but not able to articulate them later that night  when they came  home. But most just watched, happy to have an excuse to not continue on to whatever task awaited them.

Just as the owner was about to come out and put an end to the bad publicity, the kind of randomness that could only happen in a country of two billion people, that statistically had to happen in a country of two billion people happened. The noise was all encompassing, barely intelligible, like static but alive. As the sound reached its crescendo, all could see that it was a large truck carrying dozens of mangy, flea-bitten, street battered dogs who had heard the argument and wanted to add their 2 RMB. Whether these beasts wanted to support and defend or tear apart their groomed cousins is anyone’s guess. The truck came to a stop at a light a few meters ahead of the shop. In that moment the two pets either were unable to remember or actively shrugged off their chains of pampered domesticity and broke free of their owners and ran. The old philosopher men recounted the story the next day to a rapt audience and described the brief joy on each of the dog’s faces as they bounded in their freedom next to the truck.

The light turned green and the driver, a young man dressed in worn army trousers and flip flops despite the freezing temperatures, flicked his cigarette into the street. And with one fluid motion and a smirk opened his door, grabbed the two pups’ collars and threw them into the back where they disappeared under the legs of their new large friends and the one little pup’s orange ears faded in the distance.

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