FIRST TIME AT THE RODEO

There's no wiggle room here. If you're a Streetpuppy....you're going to live on the street. Well at least sleep there. And No, smartypants, not there, right there in the middle of the pavement on the yellow stripe, but you know, in an alley, under a box, on top of a box, on a porch or a bench, in a doorway, a ravine, behind some bushes.

Somewhere where you are exposed to the elements, and a whole lot of other things that will take on a whole new meaning for "Things that go bump in the night."


I hadn't done it before. At least not since camping trips (Ha! Usually the back yard under the watchful eye of ole' dad), or safely embedded in the company of trigger happy , well trained combatants, armed to the teeth....so I was just a little nervous when I left the so called 'shelter,' read that one crazy butt nightmare hell hole I was lucky to escape alive.

And no doubt about it. Then and there, I was officially a Streetpuppy.

And I was not not prepared.

I'm scared of the dark. The bottoms of my feet are very tender. I love HBO. I'm a 24 hour news junkie, I'm terrified of spiders, snakes and bugs. I am a clean freak , and I did not own a sleeping bag. I knew more about how to navigate a sailboat to Easter Island then I knew about street life.
And that very first night of what would be a long and harrowing journey on the streets ...that first time at the rodeo...was a lesson in how not to hit the street

I started out at the airport bar with a vodka martini. OK, Two martinis. Wishful thinking on my part. I had a couple hundred thousand miles racked up in my mileage plus account. But where was I going to go in the shape I was in? Paris, to shop for my winter wardrobe? My shoes didn't even match for heavens sake. And an extended vacation to the Caribbean Island of St. Barts was out of the question. My bikini and sun block were somewhere stuffed in the back of a locker.

I hopped a bus back to the local hub, the bus station. It was fashionably late. The witching hour, the time when street puppies drift off to their sleeping 'spots'. Early enough to get some shut-eye, and late enough to hopefully move about undetected.

I ran into another street puppy newbie, newly minted, like me. I'll call her oh, I'll call her Terri. Terri was an evacuee from the same hellhole shelter I had fled from earlier that day. She had fled two days ahead of me, thus she was two days wiser. Surely she knew the ropes. She had even acquired a snazzy hoody. I decided it was best to stick with a pro.

Terri nodded solemnly when I told her how greatful I was to have run into her. It was clear she was taking me on as her new sidekick, and I was, indeed greatful...and relieved. I did not want to spend the night in a big city, all alone on the street. All night long.

She squinted her eyes, looked around to make sure nobody was watching then beckoned silently for me to follow her. I did and we trotted down the street in the general direction of some hotels. Some minutes later, we were in the back court yard of a fine hotel. We settled across from each other on some hard concrete stair steps. The steps were not wide enough, or very high, but she assured me if one did not fall totally asleep....no problem.

It was impossible to sleep, I was wearing only levis, two sweatshirts a baseball cap, the mismatched shoes...and no socks. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm. I was shaking so hard from the cold I felt like I was dancing. Finally, I shook/danced right off the step and onto the concrete ground . Uumph.

The sound echoed through the courtyard. And sure enough, an alert security guard sauntered over to us from HIS sleeping spot. He told us to git. So we gitted.

But crafty Terri had a back up plan. She led me to a street filled with many benches. Benches here, benches there, and all under covered shelters open to the air. Perfect. Just one thing, she mentioned as we settled onto opposite benches. We were on the property of the municipal bus transportation authority. In fact every bench in the city was municipal bus transportation authority as people waited for the bus there. So we were officially trespassing. No problem. There was only one security guard for this whole area and he sleeps all night.

She forgot to mention the security guard had a car. He patrolled that five block area in a little white car. And he wasn't sleeping well that night. He was in that little white car, and he caught us sleeping on his benches. Three times.

The first time. He stopped the car, got out. walked over to us and said in a kindly but firm voice. "You gals cannot sleep here. If you do you will be arrested.". So we gitted again.
We watched until he was out of sight. Probably going to take a nap. We moved to another bench a couple blocks down.

He hadn't gone to take a nap. Clever guy. He had circled the block, and then sat there, in the dark, watching, waiting for us to make our move. Then he made his. He snuck right up on us. Didn't bother to get out of the car. Why bother, he already knew we were under his spell.
He simply smiled grimly, pointed at his watch and shook his head no.

We smiled back. And watched him leave. We waited a few minutes. Then simply crossed the street and settled on the benches there. He'd never come back a third time.

The third time. He was just simply there. Like a ghost in a white car. He just appeared.
He rolled down the window, looked straight ahead, his mouth making little sucking sounds.

We were blocks away, and panting from running so fast, when Terri stopped me and gasping for air, great big gulps of air...she told me her plan C..it was a long shot, but it was a shot, and we needed a shot, we were tired and wet from a light rain that had begun to fall.

She led me to the center for the performing arts. One of the most conspicuous buildings in the city, and one of the very best lit. But the building had a large back stairway.

We spent the rest of the night...a whole two hours sprawled out on that stairway. Early, early AM, another security guard. An elderly gentleman, probably close enough to retirement not to want to fuss with two scared, tired puppies.

He gently tapped the bottom of our shoes with a night stick and said. "Time to move on."

We did, out into the dawn, and back to the bus station. Some hot coffee with other sleepy-eyed puppies and serious talk about operations strategies for street living.

We were new. We knew nothing about this way of life. We had a lot to learn. And we had learned lesson one in street living. Keep Moving.