Pug Hill - Alison Pace [17]
As a rule though, I try not to pay too much attention to the owners; I try not to go out of my way to figure out which person belongs to which pug. I feel like it cheapens the whole thing, at the least, and at the very most it completely diminishes the serenity. Pug Hill is about so much for me, but I try not to have it be about the people.
I do not, especially not here, want to draw attention to myself. There’s part of me that worries a bit that if I did, all the Pug Hill people would start to know me, and think of me as weird, or as a dog stalker, or a little bit sad. I worry sometimes that they’d start to think of me as some crazy pug-watching lady who lives under Bow Bridge. And then, as the years wore on, I’d become a crazy pug-watching lady who lives under Bow Bridge and has no teeth. You can see, I imagine, why it is best that Pug Hill be about the pugs, much more than about the people. I have enough trouble in all the other places of my life with people. I think it’s important that I don’t have it here.
I head to the bench, take a seat, do my best to forget about having no teeth, and just watch the pugs for a while. I watch them as they spin themselves around in circles, approach one another, jerk back cautiously, and reapproach. I watch them as they stop—almost midstride—to lie on their stomachs, legs out in front, legs out behind as if they are covering a hole in the ground. I listen to them snort, and make other strange but endearing noises for which I’m not sure there are words. And for what’s left of the afternoon, I stay on the bench and soak up just a little of their unconditional sweetness.
My whole life I’ve always felt better in the presence of dogs. And luckily for me, there have always been dogs, even before I was born. Before I was born there was Morgan. Morgan was not a pug, but a Saint Bernard. As I stare out at all the pugs here today, I remember Morgan.
Morgan spent a tremendous amount of her life running through our neighborhood and jumping in other people’s swimming pools. My father spent a tremendous amount of Morgan’s life tracking her down. But when Morgan was actually at home, I always felt like she looked out for me. When I was a baby and Darcy came into my room and picked me up out of my crib and dropped me on the floor, it was Morgan who barked to wake my parents, even before I had started crying. I always think she must have known what I was up against, being up against Darcy. And later, Morgan used to sit with me for hours on the yellow shag carpet in my room, letting me stick pieces of yarn up her nose.
When the sky starts to get dark, I take one last look out at the pugs, before I reluctantly start to head back to the west side. As I pass the playground that’s right there, right when you walk out of the park, I pause for a moment to look at the pewter metal plaque by its gate: THE DIANA ROSS PLAYGROUND. Suddenly, song lyrics pop into my head like so many sequin-clad Supremes: Set me free why don’t you, babe? Get out my life why don’t you, babe? I think I know why. As I cross Central Park West though, I wonder if I’ve even got it right, wonder, Did Diana Ross even sing that?
When I get to Columbus Avenue, instead of heading to my apartment, I keep walking west, over to Broadway. I have decided to fight with the hysterical, asylum-bound people who like to shop at Fairway on Sunday evening. Fairway, in case you don’t know, is this Upper West Side market where they have just about everything edible you could ever think of, and also, you can get a good deal there. Because of that combination, it is the most crowded, frantic market in all of New York. Sometimes, even, I imagine Fairway to be the most frantic market, with the most unpleasant clientele, in all the world. Though I’m probably wrong about that. Being generally more interested in peace and quiet than I am interested in a good price on my produce, I don’t go to Fairway very often. Pretty much, I can’t handle Fairway, but after a while with the pugs, I think it will be easier.
And you might be wondering why I have decided