Small brown dog

A small brown dog was discovered recently entering Nina's shoe store in Portland, Oregon. The dog trotted directly to the evening shoe section and began to bark at a pair of black strapless sandals with flowers. The beautiful red-haired sales attendant, who goes by the name of Hilary, at first tried to coax the dog back to the door, and then decided to reach down and pick up the dog.

At this point things got a little nasty. The dog growled as Hilary reached down. However the sales girl, carefully extending her posture, since customers were watching, decided to ignore the growl, and instead exude charm and decisiveness in her motions. Just as she thrust her hands around the girth of the small creature, it twisted its neck back and clamped onto her left thumb with a sharp set of canines. Hilary yelled out and dropped the dog, whereby a few women screamed and jumped onto chairs, as if the dog were some sort of wild tiger loose in the room.

Hilary had suffered a deep puncture wound, and another salesperson, Grace, remembered a junior high friend who once had to endure months of rabies shots after a dog-bite incident. Although she normally found Hilary self-obsessed and snotty, she realized it was very important to act quickly and really take care of things, especially since customers were watching. Grace pulled out her blue flip phone and dialed 911. She preferred to stay by Hilary's side while someone else ran for water, soap & a bandage. She grasped Hilary's unbitten hand with more warmth and compassion than she had ever remembered doing with anyone before.

"I'm fine," grimaced Hilary, obviously unnerved but determined to show composure. She pulled her hand firmly out of Grace's grip and smiled with a set jaw. Meanwhile, commotion continued around the two sales attendants. The small brown dog was running in circles yipping at ankles and many people had pulled out their cell phones in order to alert the outside world to the situation. The room echoed with women talking in loud voices.

At that very moment, a passer-by glanced into the shop and stared in disbelief at the scene inside. He had never had a desire to enter a high fashion shoe store, and his conviction remained as he gazed into a scene of chaos. In one sense there was a whimsy to it, people running, some laughing, others with looks of terror on their faces. A few people ran from the door as he stood there, breathless and saying things like "Unbelievable!…That poor woman!…where did that animal COME from?"

The man saw that things were not right however, and particularly noticed an exotic red-haired woman, crouched stiffly on a chair, a bloody looking thumb held over her head, chin quivering as if she were holding back a great sob. He couldn't tear himself away, as he wanted to see what she would do. Her eyes looked like clear blue glass marbles. This felt more real than a TV soap opera, although he didn't normally watch those.

He began to fantasize about entering the shop and somehow saving the woman. He could grab her as she fainted into his arms, or console her when she burst into tears. He was a lonely man and although he was married, his relationship had lost meaning and closeness and he looked for those things elsewhere.

In the end, someone walking by bumped into him, twisting his shoulder and sending a pain into his neck. The fantasies ended and the man decided to return to his bleak existence. He continued down the street in a daze, feeling either more content than usual, or more irritable than usual. He wasn't sure.

Hilary, meanwhile, watched as the brown dog grabbed a pair of sequin slippers and started to chew. Part of her wanted to jump right down and tackle the dog, even if it meant more puncture wounds, but instead she tried to think what her boyfriend would say when she called him from the emergency room, telling him she had had an "incident." He would tell her to be strong. That maybe he could make it there after work, but if not, he would wait for her at home and was thinking about her.

After a great sigh, Hilary decided to lean into Grace. After all, Grace was again holding her hand as if they were lovers, and it was starting to feel nice even though she didn't want to let on. They were always competing for sales, prior to this moment, and Hilary realized she had never had an actual conversation with Grace before. Grace had smooth white arms, slightly flabby and warm. Hilary remembered her Aunt Gene, whose arms were like that once. Aunt Gene did things her own mother never did - she sang, and laughed all the time, and threw her white arms around people with great abandon.

She then noticed that, despite a dull racking in her head, the shop had quieted and an older woman was petting the brown dog. "Here here…it's alright pup."

Hilary saw some blood drip from her wound. She closed her eyes, let her body relax down into the vinyl chair, and dropped her head onto Grace's lap. Listening closely, one might have heard a small, stifled cry.

The dog climbed up into the older woman's lap, first doing a circle and then settling down to sleep.

Grace stroked Hilary's red curls with some fascination.

The man went home to his wife and told her he wasn't hungry, but maybe they could watch the Thursday night TV lineup together.

The siren wail preceded the ambulance as it rounded the corner, looking for a shoe store.

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