Cruizer

I've had far too many encounters of the wrong kind with dogs in my life. Both before and after the incident I'll be discussing briefly.

Cruizer was a white pit-bull my mother found limping down her street, thus the name. His previous owner had obviously mistreated him. He was quite hand-shy and distrusted other animals. Despite this, against common sense, she and her boyfriend took him in. My mother is forever in that "can we keep 'im" stage, and believed that she could change Cruizer.

He was an exceptionally strong dog. He had to be kept in the garage because of my mother's cats. However, her boyfriend Asterisk was usually working in the garage. Because of this, they tried tying Cruizer up with a nylon rope. he broke it. So they tried doubling the rope. It worked for awhile. Until he saw someone walking their dog. Then, he just bit through it. Not chewed; just one bite. He didn't attack though. He just intimidated the heck out of them. After that, they chained him to one of the studs in the garage. I guess he got excited, he pulled the whole dang 2x4 out of the frame.

A few months after finding Cruizer, Tecomde and Asterisk had to move. While they were searching for a new home, they left Cruizer with my grandparents and me. Although I'd had many bad experiences with dogs, I liked him. He reminded me of my first dog, Ranger. I liked to talk to him, walk with him (he was burly and intimidating), and sit in his shed with him when it rained. He hated thunder. Once again, though, his territory was restricted. He had to be kept out in the chain-link kennel. We already had dogs. He grew to be even more muscular sprinting up and down the fence, barking with them.

When Tecomde and Asterisk found a place to move into, Cruizer and I moved with them. It was an apartment complex, so he was kept inside. We didn't want him frightening the parents of all the kids who were running around. There were no yards and we weren't even supposed to have animals, but the land-lady was sympathetic. He didn't like being inside much. He gave us heck always sneaking and darting out the door. We walked him often and kept a large tow chain on him to "slow him down" when, and if, he'd dash out. It didn't really work though. If anything, it made him that much stronger and more agile. i still remember the sound of that chain dragging on the kitchen tile. It brings mixed emotions. Feelings of sadness. And terror.

The setting we were at later became what I refer to as the Dark Time. The apartment complex was not legally owned and operated. But cops NEVER came into this town without packing heavy--numbers and weapons. Having been tormented by The Darkness, I had recently started a campaign against it, using, of all things, The Dark Arts. I intended to use any powers I gained for good, to combat Evil. How...stupid. One too many episodes of "Buffy" you think? As a warlock's apprentice, I was studying a certain language I will never name. Not mine, Sezjeghn Koasz, but a dark one. Allegedly you could command animals with it.

As if a town with drug-runners needed sorcerers or a town with sorcerers needed drug-runners. My "instructor" and I had nothing to do with drugs. Or at least I didn't. We were arguably more foolish. Nonetheless, I swear that drugs and demons go hand-in-hand. Several months after my arrival and new studies began, people in town started going insane, then dying. More than a dozen people if I recall. Incidentally, the dark language was being found throughout the town. Most people mistook it for graffiti. I know I wasn't doing it. But, indirectly, try to imagine what was transpiring at home. All your cliche ghost-story occurrences. Levitating objects, doors opening and slamming shut on their own. Hot spots followed by freezing cold air. Our names, whispered when we were seemingly alone. Nightmares. The kind everyone wakes from bolt-upright, sweaty and screaming. Only to try to pacify ourselves wide-eyed in the fetal position

One day, while Asterisk was playing with Cruizer near the "animated" bedroom door, he attacked. 'Risk managed to hold him back and not get hurt. It was brief, but it shook us up. Tecomde wanted to get rid of him immediately. Asterisk and I refused. 'Risk played it down. I said I'd hang around Cruizer, see if he continued to act funny. Talk to him, pet him. Try to soothe him. I tried. But finding no success, I decided to try the Other language. He gave me the funniest look. So human, yet so unworldly.

I was drawing my hand for art class later that night. 'Risk was out looking for extra hands to help him work on the Mustang. My mom was cleaning up their room. The way the apartment was set up, I was lying beside their bedroom door, facing the front door, and with the kitchen behind me.

He had continued to act odd that day, but I told no one. While I was lying on the floor, drawing, I felt a funny feeling. That feeling you get when somebody's staring at you. I looked up. Cruizer was standing in the way of the front door. All his muscles were bulging. His head was down, and because of this, his chain had pushed the flesh up around his head, framing it I suppose. His eyes chilled my soul, I kid you not. They were black, all black - no white. His eyes were lifeless: there were no flecks of light caught in them. Just black. More like holes than eyes. I remember saying: "Why are you looking at me like that Cruizer? You're scaring me. What's the matter boy?" In response, he lifted his head and walked passed me into the kitchen, dragging his chain on the tile. I heard him sit down. Well, at least he wasn't staring at me. Or was he? Even worse--in my mind-- he was now behind me. I rolled over to look at him. He was indeed sitting and his eyes had caught some light, but I was still frightened; now he was twitching. His whole body was shaking, and he was popping his head back and forth. It seemed like he was trying to avoid looking at something, but it demanded his attention. Indecision--and fear, he was surely more frightened than I was. "Come here, boy," I said, "what's wrong?" I petted him and scratched him for a moment, talked to him, tried to calm him. But he was still twitching. At last, he glanced at me sadly, turned his head away, and returned in a flash of teeth. I'm thankful he was so close because his teeth bounced off my face. In reflex, I grabbed his jaws and pulled. I held his jaws open as he whipped and snarled.
Tecomde stormed out of her room, and in doing so, slammed the door into Cruizer and me. We remained "locked in combat". The only thing that physically hurt was the sting of the blood pouring into my eye, turning half my vision a syrupy red. I don't remember too much from there. Tecomde was screaming: "Let him go! Let him go!" I'm still not sure who she was screaming at. Later, she told me that I was yelling at her to get me my knife. I remember her screaming for Asterisk. I remember seeing Asterisk standing in the doorway, holding Cruizer off the ground by his chain. I remember grabbing my coat and telling my mom: "Talk to me, I"m going into shock." I remember telling her to calm down while thinking: Damn! I have to go to the hospital wearing shorts and sandals!

Everyone stared at me in the ER's waiting room. In the restroom mirror, I saw why: I was covered in blood. It's amazing how much blood is in your head. I, as usual, had the doctor "in stitches" as he sewed me up. I joked about it all the way home.

'Risk had him shot by a concerned neighbor ten minutes after Tecomde and I left for the hospital. For many years, I'd wake up from nightmares of eyeless dogs, in a cold sweat. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. Sometimes I think I'll never full trust a dog again. Other times I hate myself feeling that I shouldn't be trusted. I trusted that dog, I damn near loved him.