BY SEAN DIETRICH
It was dark. The young dishwasher was on break. He was sitting behind the restaurant, out by the dumpster, tapping a carton of Camels on his palm.
Like all dishwashers, he worked hard for junk pay. He was the first one there. The last one to leave. He bussed the tables. Scrubbed the kitchen. He was also the guy who cleaned the deep fryer.
Verily I say unto thee, no man hath truly known hell until he hath cleaned a deep fryer.
That night, our hero was exhausted when he saw something nosing around the dumpster. It was a puppy.
Brown coat. Skinny. The dog was bleeding. Cut to shreds. Like the little guy had been in a fight. Gashes on his young face. An open wound on his chest.
“Here boy,” said our hero, stepping on his cigarette. “Come here.”
Our hero had been in 4-H during some of his youth. If there is one thing 4-H kids know, it’s how to be calm and confident around animals.
Our hero, you see, was raised as a foster child in Wisconsin. He had no parents. No grandparents. No aunts, no uncles. No nobody. A local youth organization had sponsored his entrance into a 4-H club. And the training never leaves you.
The dog was timid. Untrusting. But with enough patented 4-H patience, our hero won him over. The young man adopted him. He named him Rufus.
The first night, Rufus slept by the front door. Rufus had spent most of the evening cowering in the corner and trembling. Whenever his new friend tried to pet him, he began yelping and peeing on himself.
So the first night, our hero slept on the kitchen floor with the animal. He spent eight hours holding the animal in his arms. The next night, our hero lined the kitchen with quilts and pillows, and he slept there again.
Over time, Rufus began to trust his new friend. Years went by. Rufus grew in size. Our hero had no idea Rufus would soon weigh upwards of 110 pounds. Our hero had to get a second job just to afford the dog food.
But it was worth it. For Rufus was his best friend.
Our hero had his first family — just add water. The two did Thanksgivings together. Our hero went to Cracker Barrel and ordered two to-go orders. Together, he and Rufus ate in the den while watching Disney movies.
Christmas was even better. Rufus was the first soul our hero had ever actually bought Christmas presents for. The first year, he bought Rufus a Sam’s Wholesale pack of urination-pads. He even filled out a card.
Soon, Rufus was 14. He had white on his snout and on his chest. And his eyes were going bad. Everyone in the neighborhood loved the old boy. Local neighbor kids all clambered over themselves to take Rufus for walks.
One day, Rufus was found lying in a corner, groaning. Our hero took him to the doctor. Acute pancreatitis. They ran a few tests. Nothing they could do.
Our hero made a hard decision. He said goodbye to a 14-year relationship, the longest one he had ever known.
The doctor inserted a needle into Rufus’s leg. A pinkish fluid was administered. The dog’s eyes rolled backward as our hero stroked the fur between the dog’s eyes. And he was gone.
Anyway, I tell you all this because I am convinced, beyond all doubts, there will be fleas in heaven.
