Submarine: Winchuski
The dog’s collar says “Winchuski”. No number. No address. No microchip. Yes, I felt around the scruff. No chip. Just “Winchuski”. What am I supposed to do with this thing? Jo always tells me to keep the gate locked when I play music in the garage. Says it’s not safe. She’s unsure around Latinos. Here’s some water good girl. Fourth walk around the neighborhood and nobody is claiming “Winchuski”. I haven’t even had anyone express a concern. I guess we look like we belong together. Probably my beard. It’s got that redgrey thing happening. At this point my dog breed would be: Bonaduce border collie. Crap. Sal Nattano watering his grass. Nooooo. Shitters. Pass. I can’t handle the awkward conversation... Turning around. Nope, crosshairs, and…I’m back. “Luker.” “Hey, Sal. Hi.” “You got a new friend?” “Nope.” “What’s her name?” “Winchuski.” Sal’s petting her. Breathing kinda panty. He’s balding? He’s back. “Winchuski!!!?? Luker, you are something rich! How’d you come up with that one? “It’s not my dog, Sal.” “Hunh. Too good looking to be a stray. You check the tag?” “Of course, yes.” “And it just says Winchumski?” “Winchuski.”
“Fine. I’m trying to offer some help. Maybe take her to the shelter downtown if you can’t.” “I know. I’m going to take her to my sister’s house.” “Why?” “Bye, Sal. “Fine. OK.” I’m not taking “Winchuski” to my sister’s. She lives in Jacksonville. It’s just easier to say because Sal’s never met my sister so she can be anyone I need her to be at any time. Last Superbowl Sunday, my sister came in town with her two little kids. I watched the Superbowl, stoned, by myself. Win. Sal dropped a couple Boston cream pies off. Win. I should actually call my sister. 6:08. East coast is 8:08… Nah. Where’s Jo? Is my phone dead? “Winchuski” is peeing. Again. She’s peed seven times since I started looking for her home. Again. On Dr. Yamamoto’s Rosemary bush. Eight. Egghh. I have a stray dog with a urinary tract infection. Yamamoto- “Luke.” “Hi.” “This is your new dog.” “No. The dog walked into my yard while I was playing.” “Ah huh. What’s the name?” “Her name is “Winchuski”.” “Why?” “Not sure.” “It’s a surprise for Jo?” “No.” “Jo doesn’t like a dog?” “She does. It’s just that the dog showed up through the gate- “Maybe keep the gate closed.” “Yes.” “He hungry?” Dr. Yamamoto heads into his house to get some homemade beef jerky, I’m guessing. He’s yelling from the house. I’m yelling from outside the house. “The dog?!” “Yes. Winchester.” “Winchuski.” “Are you sure that’s the name?” “It’s right on the tag.” “Winchuski?” “Winchuski?!!!!” “Winchuski!!!!!!!!!!!”