2001-06-02 :: 1:39 a.m.

the story of Lucky

Soundtrack: Powderfinger, Odyssey Number Five; The Avalanches, Since I Left You

Tonight Sara and Jon and I went out to the St. Kilda Film Festival and then ate some Armenian/Moroccan food at Mango Dogs. We hit the City Cafe afterwards on Jon's recommendation, and shared good conversation throughout. At the cafe I told them the story of Lucky, which I've mentioned before. In a flashback moment, I feel like recording it here (to the best of my memory, as I took few actual notes afterwards).

---

On the evening of April 21, I was strolling the main drag of Airlie Beach. My time sailing the Whitsundays had come to a close and I had been prowling the small town (i.e. there wasn't much to prowl), playing a lot of South Park pinball (getting the top score on the machine, which took a lot of table-tilting/lifting, earning me the brief wrath of the arcade operator until I chatted with him about "the good old tables" etc.), and drinking a fair bit (Australia bleeds alcohol). This night was lonely though, a night without family or a real friend. I didn't have any numbers on me to ring someone back in the States, much as I wanted a familiar voice. While I enjoyed the outsider role a lot of the time, I was getting that sick feeling from seeing so many couples holding hands in this backpacker paradise and feeling mine shoved in my pockets in would-be shoegazer style. I strolled the beachwalk and swung on a dark playground, but my hips were too big for the seat, and the chains dug in. Jumped off and kept walking. At some point I tried to go play some The World Is Not Enough pinball in a cafe, but the dress code was in effect, and so I got bounced for wearing thongs (to my great agitation). I'd pass people on the path now and again, but we were more concerned with making sure the other wasn't a mugger or something than with making conversation.

Eventually I made my way to McDonald's, considering the possibility of a cheeseburger (it's a shameful admission that McD's has been a sort of American comfort food -- I blame my parents making McNuggets a rare treat in my youth; same thing with Nintendo and my GameBoy fixation). I noticed a family playing around with a dog, tossing a piece of mulch for it to retrieve. The man tired of this a few minutes later and the dog ran over to me, dropped the mulch, wagged its tail, and woofed in a high pitched sheltie shriek. From the looks of it, it was some kind of border collie/shepherd mutt, full grown. The nose was evenly divided between dark, almost blackish brown and white. One eye sat in a dark eyepatch of fur in a nod to Spuds MacKenzie. I looked to the family: no reaction. After a few tosses, I asked them if the dog was theirs: nope.

It only took a few minutes to establish that the dog was, in fact, no one's. It must have been around 11:00PM or so when I arrived, and this was about twenty minutes later. I grabbed the dog's collar: 'LUCKY' it said in white letters on the thick black ring. Eight numbers followed, the only identification of the owner. I rang the number, asking the patrons around me to make sure the dog didn't leave. The lines for the phones were incredible. Backpackers herd through Airlie, and this was Easter vacation, so the swarms were out in full force, calling loved ones back home from public phones for hours on end. Various accents swirled around if you eavesdropped. While there are a few phone banks throughout the "downtown area" (heavy emphasis on the tone quotes), supply is far outstripped by demand. I chatted up a Brazilian backpacker briefly while we waited. Revealing American status always gives that strange curious lovehate from foreigners. We can blow them up good, but we stick our fingers in a few too many pots to have their full admiration, I guess.

Finally I found a free phone, but it wasn't much help -- I got the answering machine:

Uh, hi. I think I have your dog, Lucky. Uh, I think she's lost on the main drag here in Airlie, near the McDonald's. Anyway, I'm just a backpacker here, in case you couldn't tell, American, you know. I'll try to look after her 'cause she just seems to want to play catch but I have no idea if she's eaten or anything, so uh, maybe come by if you can, I'll keep her by the Maccers. So, I realize this is kind of a strange thing, but hopefully we'll make the best of it. Okay, bye.

I kept thinking about the eating thing. Someone volunteered that Lucky had been around since 5:00PM or so, and while she seemed awfully playful, nobody was really forking over any sustinence. I tried to think of what Brent did with Enzo and Jenny did with Toby and concluded that a burger couldn't be so bad for the dog if I just got the meat part. For $AU0.60 I got a Quarter Pounder patty hot off the grill, tore it up into bite-sized bits, and watched Lucky scarf it down. I thought later that it might have been too hot (it was really sizzling), but she was thrilled. She'd already slurped down several huge cups of water, so at least now she had a bit of a meal in her.

The hamburger jockey mentioned that Lucky was something of a known entity in Airlie, but lived down by the marina and was certainly a ways away from home -- but he felt pretty sure she'd find her way back. I couldn't help thinking that if that was the case, why was she still prancing around McDonald's? Was she getting that much satisfaction from catch by the roadside with a pilfered bit of mulch? Maybe I was a sucker, one of many shills who'd bought her a bit of food throughout the day, but it seemed like a rather inefficient panhandling process.

People began to assume Lucky was mine, and I began to stop explaining the growing story and just say "She's a good dog." Of course, when a really gorgeous model-looking blonde girl came by and asked what was going on, I explained that I was taking care of this lost dog. When I pointed out that some kids had just left a backpack behind, she ran it up to them, and they received it with a small amount of embarrassment (dumb things in front of hot girls = red faces). As she entered the Maccers she made some encouraging remark, but that was about all the interaction I got. Somehow I missed her leave. I guess I was just wrapped up in playing catch.

Midnight came and went; McDonald's was shutting, the last few patrons were thinning. I had chatted to a few local Airlie kids (they were sort of drop-out ruffian-esque) and a Scottish couple, Elana and Russell. Elana was distinctively beautiful and sort of reminded me of a pseudo [but prophetic] summer camp relationship I had in eighth grade: Anika/"Nikki" (I think it was the smile, but maybe also the dirty blonde hair). I'd made a few calls to the owner again, leaving more messages similar to the first, and expressing increasing doubt at my ability to keep Lucky overnight in my backpacker room.

Then it was just Lucky and me. We'd been playing catch for so long it seemed like the only thing to do. I couldn't just keep that up all night, though. I was tired, I had a sea kayaking gig planned for tomorrow morning, and who knows what the rest of the day might hold? Well, if she followed me, what could I do? It was easy to talk myself into believing this.

Of course, she followed me. I was the meal ticket, after all. But she seemed so happy about having some company, and to tell the truth, so was I. I almost felt like she knew I wasn't feeling so hot and had come to cheer me up. I couldn't look past the prophetic name, either -- both interpretations seemed equally valid. We were in this together now.

Lucky tore through mulch and sticks as fast as I could locate them. We trotted along the beachwalk, and this time it didn't feel like such a lonely place. My favorite photo came when I got her to leap onto a picnic table to grab the stick from the edge after a long period of confusion. When I'd put the stick up initially, she couldn't jump onto the slats of the table seat -- her paws slipped through the gaps. But she could leap up to the edge and snatch it with her jaws if she held up with her paws. Watching her puzzle it out was fascinating.

This kept on for awhile, with intermittent pee breaks (for her, not my sober self). At one point two drunks girls saw us after I took another picture and one yelled, "Who let the dogs out?" while the other followed with "Who, who, who who?" Lucky trotted along by my side, dropping the stick when she wanted to play catch, picking it up again if I ignored her request and kept onward, speeding up until she resumed the lead. She had this little way of looking back to make sure she was on track with me, but still wanted to be in front. I found that she quickly placed me in the role of pack leader: when I said "Lucky, sit," she'd follow the orders as if I'd raised her. We strolled up and down the road, playing catch outside Paddy Shenanigans (to the amusement of the exiting crowds) and eventually stopping outside the Caltex for a breather. I was feeling the night (and myself) wear out, and Lucky's stride was a little less bouncy. We sat down and looked at each other. I really didn't want to let Lucky try to find her way home at this point.

The blonde girl from Maccers came by and said "Oh, it's the dog!" She had some boy on her arm now, moments away from hooking up, I predicted sadly. "Still looking after her?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try the owners again and see if they're back now, maybe the police." I wasn't sure if there'd be a dogcatcher fee for the owners, which seemed like an unfortunate thing to put them through if they expected Lucky to just find her way home and considered this normal behavior for their dog. On the other hand, it wasn't exactly like I should be too worried about that if they weren't too worried about their dog.

"You're doing a good thing," the model said to me, and touched me on the head. The touch was strange in its almost supernatural quality. She looked one more time at Lucky and headed off with the boy on her arm and the other couple walking with them. I thought about if I should have tried the bars again tonight and decided that this experience with Lucky was probably the best thing I could ask for. I made one more attempt to get the owners (fruitless) and then rang 000, the emergency police line.

"Police." It was a female operator.

"Uhm, hi, I'm a dumb American, so forgive me for calling the emergency line, but I have a non-emergency here, a stray dog."

"Just call your local police, they'll sort it out."

"I don't know what that number is."

"Well, dial information, they'll tell you."

I didn't even know the information number, but I quickly got that and then my local police number.

"Hello, Whitsunday Police."

"Yeah, I've got a stray dog here, I've been taking care of her all night. She's got owners but they're not answering the phone. But I'm staying at a backpacker, so I don't think I can take the dog back. Do you pick up dogs? Is there a fee for the owners? 'Cause I think this isn't a serious stray, just a sort of mistake, you know?"

"Well, we don't have any facilities for a dog right now, I'm sorry."

"What, so you can't pick her up?"

"No, no one can pick up the dog now."

"So it's either me or let the dog try to find her way home?"

"I guess so, unfortunately. See if you can bring her to the backpacker?"

"I don't know. Well, thanks." For nothing.

We crossed the street again; I still had to keep eager Lucky at bay near the cars -- she was practically ready to get friendly with them, too. We trudged to Morocco's, the strangely named restaurant/"party bar" by our backpacker. The bouncer was absolutely no help getting a cup of water, so I walked back to my cabin and cupped my hands under the laundry sink, bringing the water to Lucky's muzzle. She lapped up several handfuls (at this point my cleanliness fixation was pretty well by the wayside). I sat her by the door to the cabin and peeked inside: five sleeping bodies (all participants on my uni trip), and my waiting top bunk. Could I really do this?

I grabbed my toilet kit and brushed up while Lucky dozed in the bathroom doorway, exhausted. With Lucky sitting, I changed into my singlet outside the cabin. I'd cleared a path to the bed, it was time to get in. I briefly considered the relative "good ideaness" of bringing a stray into bed, but it seemed like the thing to do. Lucky was just too sweet to be some kind of wackjob that was going to pee all over me in my sleep. In the same way a human with a winning character makes you gloss over small physical imperfections (or perhaps come to value them), her personality overrode any anal considerations about bugs or whatever she stepped in during the day. I scooped Lucky up, a forearm under her chest and rear hocks, and slipped inside. The air conditioner was on, but with all the bodies emitting heat the room felt thick, and Lucky began panting as I tossed her onto my bunk. I quickly clambered in and slipped into the newly spread (as of a few minutes ago) sheets, steering Lucky into proper position and pressing her to lie down. Soon she was next to me, her legs facing the wall, her back up against my left side. I rubbed her belly and tried to muffle her rapid panting (which was now coming through her nose) with my right hand, awkwardly crossed over my torso. She placed a paw on my hand, and I wasn't sure if she was trying to knock it out of the way or communicate some kind of goodnight wish. What if someone woke up? Would they be pissed off? If she peed, would it drip onto Marco, snoozing below me? Was this panting ever going to stop? Could I sleep in this contorted muffling position? Would I get in trouble with the backpacker and shit up the trip for the lot of us?

It turned out I didn't really need to worry so much. Lucky discovered that sleeping with her back to the wall gave her some more air circulation (and less shared heat with my body) and quickly readjusted, but maintained a bit of paw-to-hand contact, which was really sweet in its way. I gave her a few goodnight scruffs on the neck and soon I was asleep.

Not for long, however -- at about 6:40AM I awakened to the sound of dry lips being licked. Oh, Lucky. Are you fucking hungry already? What time is it -- oh God. No, go back to sleep. No luck. The licking went on, coupled with arhythmic dog breath. No use fighting it. I assumed that she must have been hungry or thirsty or both, and come to think of it, so was I. Twenty minutes later, I was up for good.

Axel (from Germany) was up since he and Leisl (Lisa?) were heading off that morning; he'd just opened the door to head for the shower.

"Axel, can you fill this mug with some water?"

"What do you need water for?"

"There's a dog in my bed."

This earned me a puzzled look. "What do you mean a dog?"

"I mean a dog, you know, arf arf, a dog." I mimed the panting motion to go with the sound effects.

"Really a dog?" Axel said in fractured English.

"Yes, really a dog," I said, as if it were perfectly normal for a dog to be in my bed.

Axel gave me a look of disbelief and walked off without further inquiry. I went and filled the mug myself, but its design proved to be better suited to humans than canines. Back to hand-cupping the water. What to do about breakfast? There was a grocers in the town, maybe they'd have some dog food. We trekked down but discovered that the store wasn't open until 7:30AM, and that was half an hour away. My bus for kayaking left at 8:00AM sharp, and I wasn't about to suffer being left behind. There was only one option, then: McDonald's breakfast sausages. I bought three patties at a total cost of $AU1.50 and placed them in front of her. At first Lucky seemed non-plussed at her meal, but after I broke the patties up, she eventually decided it would do and made short work of it.

There was no way I could leave Lucky in my cabin over the kayaking session. Housekeeping might find her, she might damage property, who knew. I rang the police again. This time I didn't get an operator, but a sergeant. I explained the situation and he said he'd be right over. Lucky quickly started up another game of catch with a wet stick. I ripped a good chunk of my left ring finger's pad wrestling the stick from her (she had a bit of a thing for tug-of-war, too, I forgot to note). I was clotting the wound with some McD napkins when the sergeant arrived. I explained everything I knew and asked him to please provide my email address to the family when the dog was returned so I could know it had all worked out. He took my address here at college down as well, and got Lucky to jump in the backseat by throwing the stick in there. I took one last photo of Lucky through the rear window of the cruiser and that was that -- she was off. I had forgotten to give her a hug goodbye, but otherwise a decent farewell. I wished we had more time, but it was a full adventure we'd shared.

It wasn't more than a few minutes later that I ran into a girl from school back home -- she'd been in my music class last semester -- that was backpacking through Australia (no studies). A very bizarre circumstance, we just stared at each other after I saw her walk out of her backpacker. We snapped a photo and then it was off to kayaking.

When I came back I had planned on calling the owners to tell them what happened and where their dog was now. Instead I heard "Stephanie speaking" when I connected. Unfortunately, before I could even say hello, the phone hung up and said something like "Call rejected."

"Hey," I called to the backpacker hostess behind the counter. "I'm trying to call the owner of a stray dog I looked after and it's not working."

"You aren't keeping the dog here, are you?" Oops.

"No, of course not."

Between that white lie and the connection problems, I wandered to a phone down the street and tried again. Success! When she heard my accent she immediately said "Is this Jordan?"

"Yes, hi."

"We got Lucky back, thank you so much. We were so worried when we came home and found her gone, but we got your messages, so we felt a lot better."

"Yeah, I managed to keep her overnight. I just got back from kayaking, I just wanted to let you know where she was, but since you have her back--"

"Yeah, the police loved her, but she's happy to be home, sleeping away now. You were right, she is really exhausted."

"I fed her some McDonald's, I hope she doesn't get a taste for it."

"No worries."

"So you guys were just out for the night? My big worry was you were out for a big holiday and wouldn't be back for a while."

"Yeah, it was just one night we were gone. So are you traveling through Australia?"

I explained the situation with exchange and where I was from and that I'd just booked a skydive. She encouraged me to go for the maximum height since it all goes so fast. Sounded good to me. After a "good on ya" and several more thank yous she said she'd email me and we said goodbye. I popped inside McDonald's, found the girl who'd given me so many cups of water last night and told her the good news; she thanked me. I figured she probably thought I was a little weird to be so into this dog, but I didn't really care. Maybe she meant it when she thanked me, I don't know.

And then I went and jumped out of a plane. In a funny turn, I ran into Elana and Russell again that night in Beaches bar. I told them the good news and we wished each other well and that was my last night in Airlie before we set off the next morning.

---

When I came home to Melbourne I had this in my Inbox:

Subject: Lucky Dogs family in Airlie
Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 12:08:32 +1000

Dear Jordan
thankyou so much for finding Lucky. The coppers absolutley loved her but she was quite happy to be home none the less.
She has a running away problem that we cannot seem to solve. She meets so many people that will give her total undivided attention all day every day as well as tasties from the chippie or as you found, Mc Donalds.So really we are fighting a losing battle. She gets tied up,but she is like Houdini. She has been known to untie a bowline!!! We have a charter yacht here so when we are not sailing, we take her with us out for a trip, she has pretty good sea legs except when it is a little rough,
We actually picked her up from a pound in Brisbane where she was a week off the needle, she belongs on a farm where she can run around as much as she pleases but we cannot bear to give her up and she is also past the age of training to round cattle and such. We have a 2 year old daughter who Lucky was very jealous of at first, but they do miss each other now when Lucky goes exploring,
Once again thankyou.
Please visit if you are ever in Airlie again, it sounds like you and Lucky hit it off!

Cheers and good luck in your travel and adventures in Oz
Stephanie and Tony and Mistral; and Lucky and Milo,( lucky's mate who thankfully stayed home) and a couple of mad lorikeets.

For the rest of the trip I endured the "Jordan slept with a dog" jokes and my trip leader had a good laugh when he heard the tale, but it was all in good fun. I'd do it all over again, and I'm more sure than ever than I want a dog. Lucky was one of the best cures for a lonely night I'll ever have.