He was short-haired and carried his tail curled over his back. His broad skull was made to look broader by ears that winged out to either side. When Grizelda found him his eyes were open and he was steady on his feet so she judged him old enough to share bits of her crispy fried chicken sandwich. He ate what she gave him and licked her fingers for more.

"Chickee, I will call you," she told him and he agreed with a tail wag. Yes, a fine name for a dog, a brown dog who danced on white-stockinged feet and strutted a white shirt-front. A special dog that had chosen her, Grizelda thought. As months passed she taught him to sit, lie down and stand up on his hind legs with his front paws crossed.

The two of them relocated further down Sixth to where they easily made the daily walk to Pershing Square bringing with them the can that once contained stewed tomatoes. Mothers with their children, business men catching a smoke break, or lovers strolling the pathways were enchanted by the lively Chickee who worked hard in partnership with the old lady performing his tricks. Many smiled as they put an extra dollar in the can for a dog treat.

Grizelda never wondered that they cared for her dog more than they had for her when she was alone. Until now, no one, not even her, had recognized that she belonged more to the world of animals than that of people. She was a dog charmer and she had finally come into her own, her calling. Her status on the street, she realized, was elevated by her partnership with Chickee, her sense of purpose and her ability to interact with others increased.

When the man with no legs was taken away by authorities, Grizelda moved into his tent without challenge. Chickee stood guard over her and her possessions. Her life was improved. More important was her growing understanding of the role she was chosen to play: a responsibility in exchange for her fortune. Chickee was halfway into the world of language as evidenced by his reaction to her words, he was ready to become the magical companion by which humans and dogs were to be united. And dogs would teach humans the art of joy.

Daily the two of them made their way through valleys between glass-walled canyons, under bridges, beside ditch water looking for items of value, gleaning in alleys behind cafes and markets. All the while Grizelda interpreted the the things they saw and experienced into language for Chickee who stayed attentively at her side striving to understand.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skid_Row,_Los_Angeles

Indar,

I'm enjoying the way this is unfolding.

Thanks Gyppo, I spent almost three weeks out of state in a hotel room and spent many evenings writing, most of it unusable poetry due to exhaustion. But got a start on this and it wouldn't let go of me.