It was the day before I left Miami. I'd hung around after Art Basel to watch the down artistically deflate and met some other stragglers, muralists who's ride back home had left them high and dry. We took to painting the spots left over from Basel week. One such spot was a huge warehouse which a friend of mine was granted permission to cover top to bottom in paint. I jumped on board the project after half of the wall space was covered with graffiti pieces so I did backgrounds and characters. I became a valuable asset to the team, and stayed in a hotel to be close to the spot to paint it whenever I chose. The morning which was to be my final morning in Miami I thought to get an early start to painting. I took a city bus towards the spot, then walked a few blocks. When I came near the spot, I saw a dog running accross a busy intersetion with people chasing him. I heard a woman yell, "Get that dog!". I thought to myself, 'Dammit, I'm going to get this dog'. I chased it through a gas station parking lot, and tried to tackle it in a gravel and plant display at the entrance. The dog slipped away from my arms and ran out into traffic. I ran after the dog yelling for cars to stop and waving my arms frantically, as the last thing I wanted from this chase was a dead dog.
The dog's name, I later learned was Rollie. He was a mutt from the pound, a fast one. He was thin and athletic. I thought at first that he was an italian greyhound, but he was likely closer to a labrador crossed with a rat terrier. He was pitch black and gaunt. Today was Rollie's big day- the day which he would meet his new family, who had driven three hours up from Key West to pick him up and give him a second chance at a good life.
I chased Rollie down the street and down a side road. A beautiful woman came walking from behind a building, breathing heavily from running herself. "Did you catch him?" Her name was Tobi. She was blonde and tall. She had beautiful posture. She wore a white dress. I replied that I saw him (the dog) go down the street and cut back to the main road. We agreed to split up and try to corner him, which may have worked if the two of us were olympians. We surrounded Rollie a few times (a feat in itself) but he eludued our efforts. He took a dash out of our sights and into a neighborhood. We began asking residents if they had seen a small black dog. No one had seen him. We flagged down a car which came from the direction which we suspected Rollie had run and asked them if they had seen a little black dog. They replied no but agreed to help us look for a little while. Tobi and I exchanged phone numbers, and I got in the car with the two gentlemen to be the eyes of the impromptu search party. Tobi ran to her car and began driving around herself. My new friends and I circled the neighboorhood, then tried a couple alleyways where we suspected a loose dog might be drawn to. In one alleyway, we came to a pile of cement blocks, about a foot and a half tall. The driver inquired aloud if he could make it. The answer was an obvious no- we were driving a low-riding crown vic, but I thought to keep my opinion to myself. He didn't really want an answer it seemed, as a moment after asking the question, without response from me or the other gentleman passenger, he pushed on the accelerator. The car lurched forward and came just shy of airborne as the front wheels contacted the cement blocks at the front of the pile. It was like watching a trainwreck. The car came to a hault and we heard a scream from the engine revving as the front wheels lost contact with the ground. The air grew heavy. The car sat helpless, like an upside-down tortoise. "I think we're stuck" the driver said. I silently questioned his level of sobriety. The passenger and I got out and took a look at our predicament. The car was fixed on the pile of rocks by the undercarriage, about one third the way into the length of the vehicle. The driver directed the passenger and I to 'get in front and push'. With the two front tires hanging in the air, I thought that our efforts would be in vein, but after some rocking bcakwards and forwards, with periodic clearing of chunks of concrete from under the car, we made progress. As I stood in front of the car and pushed, the final rock on which the car teetered came into contact with the driver's-side front wheel and shot out from the underbelly, skipping down the alleyway like the last boulder of an avalanche. The car crashed to the ground with clamor. We were free. Our passenger friend and I got back into the car and resumed searching for Rollie, but after a few minutes, declared it more trouble than they had time for. The gentlemen dropped me off at the corner from which they had graciously picked me up. I called Tobi. She swung by in her car, picked me up, and together we resumed the search. She told me about Rollie's story. Just a few days prior to this adventure, he was on the 'kill list' of the Dade County Humane Society, (known to be the clinic with the nation's highest euthenization rate). Tobi, a member of a anti-kill animal rehabilitation group became aware of Rollie's fate, she stepped in to save his life and foster him until he could find a family to live out the rest of his doggy life with. Rollie recieved his vaccinations, was neutered, and recieved surgery for a problematic tumor, before finding his adoptive family, from Key West. After a few days of foster care, Tobi put Rollie in his crate to transport him to his new owners, but upon arriving at the agreed upon spot and opening her car door, Rollie caught a glimpse at freedom, (or escape or a hotdog or something) and jumped out of the car, and took off running. Tobi felt horrible about losing Rollie, but we came to the agreement that it was not her fault, it was just what happened. We drove aorund the block several times, looking for either a speedy little dog or roadkill that resembled Rollie, but found neither. We agreed that it would likely be best to make flyers in the afternoon, post them around the neighboorhood, and hope someone called him in. Tobi drove me back to where our adventure began, nearby a clothing boutique which she owned and managed- The Fox House. I enjoyed her store, though it catered almost exclusively to women, I appreciated her curatorial senssibilities. We talked about the shop and I told some stories from my time so far in Miami. After discussing solutions to the Rollie dilemma, I said goodbye to Tobi and left for the afternoon. I walked back towards the wall to begin painting, but on my way ran into my friend and painting companion, Optimo, who needed help with a wetern Union transaction. He did not have an ID so we organized routing the money to my name- this was a four hour operation complete with a walk across town, calls, texts, stoop sitting, waiting, etc. Optimo's orginizational qualities are not his strong point. Optimo had to catch a bus so I ended up fronting him the cash while we waited for the Western Union order to process, which worked out. Afterwards, I returned to the wall, (so much for an early start). The sun was beginning to set. Upon arriving at the wall I saw a little black dog crossing the street in front of me. He had a unique gate in that his back legs stayed close toghether in his trot and ticked from side to side. I recognized that gate; it was Rollie! It was a miracle! I figured he would be tired after the chase from earlier in the day, and I assumed he'd done quite a lot of running since our initial attempt at capturing him, now five hours prior. I started after him in a relaxed jog, at first matching his pace, then quickening to close some distance between us. He noticed me in pursuit and sped up. It was on again. This time I thought to use some food that I'd been carrying in my backpack to try to lure him in, a beautiful Italian sausage at that. I took off my backpack, unzipped, and reached in, all while keeping pace with the dog. I took out the treat and held it out, now kneeling to show that I came in peace with an offering. Rollie did not break his trot, he did not care. I put the treat away and took to running again. I sprinted a few times to see if I could catch him on the assumption that he would be tired, but he alluded me with ease. By this time Rollie and I had run together for about 10 blocks. I was feeling very tired, and I thought I would ask the first person I saw on a bicycle to trade me for... I don't know what... whatever they would take for it. Just then a gentleman on a scooter pulled up to a four way intersection that Rollie and I were running through. I appealed to him. "Excuse me, please, I'm chasing this dog and I'm super tired. Would you help me chase him down on your scooter. I'll pay you, please." The gentleman took to the mission as quickly as I had and responded with a "Jump on!" I hopped onto the back of the scooter and off we went in pursuit of the marathon dog. We caught up to him quick, and I felt confident that I could catch him now. I jumped off the scooter when we slowed down a bit for an intersection, and made a mad dash for the dog, but again, no luck. I thought my new scooter friend would let me back on but he became so inspired to catch the elusive dog he took off after it. Now I was chasing a dog and a scooter, and they were going at full clip. The gentleman on the scooter took it upon himself to honk his horn at the dog repeatedly while in pursuit, attracting the attention of all in the neighborhood. We had become some type of loud joke; I being the punchline as I ran a few blocks behind the setup. Some residents asked me to explain the joke as I ran by, "Is that your dog?".
"Well, kind-of." I'd say in between heavy breathing, "it's a long story." as I trailed away. Others just laughed at the spectacle. I laughed with them, it was all I could do.
My scooter friend kept his position just behind Rollie, blaring his horn. I felt bad for Rollie, I imagine he felt like an antelope being chased by a lioness. After ten more blocks, scooter man, Rollie, and moments later, I came to a dead end culdesac. There was a house on the left, and a gated apartment complex on the right. Rollie went right, Scooter-man and I followed. A group of children heard the commotion and came out to watch what was happening. I sprinted towards Rollie, it was now or nothing. I took off my backpack and tried to throw it at the dog to trip him. Rollie dodged it. Moments later, Rollie ran into a dead end in the chain link fence which surrounded the apartments. I caught up to him and swiped my leg under him to take out his spindly legs. He fell to the ground and I jumped on top of him, grabbing his torso and neck. he turned his head back and bit into my hand. His teeth punctured my skin on my left thumb and he gnawed with all of the strength that he had left. I grabbed his muzzle and subdued him. He was wet under his belly, and he smelled like game. I could feel him yield control to me. It was done. I turned to Scooter-man and the small crowd of children spectators which had gathered for the spectacle, holding Rollie up as the prize of the hunt. As I caught my breath, I relayed the story to the curious on-lookers about the Runaway Rollie. I told them everything that Tobi had told me, that Rollie was rescued from death at the hands of the humane society, and had a team of people working to place him in a home. Rollie bagan to look like a celebrity, and after such a big day, he kind-of was. The evening's chase had begun about twenty five blocks back, and I asked Scooter-man if he would be willing togive me a ride back to where we started. He obliged and introduced himself as Henry. I thanked Henry and wished him a good night, handing him twenty bucks for his troubles. I called Tobi with the news, "I have your dog." I could feel her joy through the phone. She agreed to meet me in front of her boutique. I asked her store-front neighbor, a neighborhood barber shop if they had a vessel for some water for the fatigued Rollie, holding him up in a cradled position to show his state. My left arm, visibly bleeding, held him under his torso while my right arm crossed over his muzzle and eyes, as it seemed to calm him. His legs practically dangled as I carried him. The gentlemen in the barber shop were happy to respond. They brought a bowl of water for Rollie while we waited outside for Tobi to arrive. Rollie was too tired and likely disoriented to drink. When Tobi arrived, Rollie was gracious and excited to see her. We put Rollie back into the her car. Tobi opened her shop and helped me clean the wounds.
Later, I learned that a cash reward was posted for Rollie's safe capture and return. Days later, Rollie underwent another surgery to extract a tumor whic compromised his health. He was placed successfully into his new home where he is recovering well. I recieved the cash reward, one hundred dollars, which was a blessing.
I set out to leave Miami the following morning, but not after making a trip over the the Fox House to see Tobi and hear how Rollie was doing. Tobi showed gratitude to me for rescuing Rollie. She picked out a t-shirt that read 'My Life Story Will Be A Good One'. It was beautiful. I put it on and rode off to the greyhound station.
Thank you Miami, thank you Tobi, thank you Rollie. What a beautiful memory to have and share!
